New Adventures of Simon (m/m) News on April 16th

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Bondwriter
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New Adventures of Simon (m/m) News on April 16th

Post by Bondwriter »

I saw int he archives some stories were posted. I'll get all of them posted in one place for the Simon enthusiasts. Check the fictional stories for everyone where I post the classic adventures of Simon.
I'll start this week with "Reunion", when Wilhelm and Simon meet again. Warning: long term and intense.

Reunion

A Simon and Wilhelm adventure
by Bondwriter


Chapter 1 – Back from the Past

Simon only had two seconds before he fainted, but it was long enough for him to identify the hand that clamped the sickly smelling pad over his nose and mouth. It wasn’t chloroform, but Simon’s kicks and fighting fainted quickly nevertheless. Just before he could no longer fight, he understood from the smell and the touch that he was being kidnapped by Wilhelm.

It had been over three years since Wilhelm and Simon’s paths had crossed. Simon had been performing at Wilhelm’s little brother’s birthday party. The performance with Stilo had gone wrong. They didn’t know at the time, but cigar smoke got Stilo to go slightly over the top. He’d left Simon tied to a tree as they had given a personal performance to Wilhelm, who took the opportunity to kidnap Simon.

He hid him in the estate for three days. Simon had been freed eventually; Stilo had recovered his senses and Wilhelm’s behaviour had attracting enough attention to bring the rescue party to the little shed where Simon was kept. He had just managed to free himself when they’d found him with Wilhelm’s brother. Despite the awful ordeal, Simon was untying Friedrich when Stilo and Wilhelm’s father had burst into the shed.

Wilhelm had been sent to the nut house. Simon never heard of him again; the circus led him to new horizons and a number of adventures, especially when the circus was small, but the last eighteen months had seen much better conditions.

Simon and Stilo’s numbers were getting better and more spectacular. They put up routines with a narrative, featuring three or four mind-blowing tricks in them. One of these numbers showed thieves – the acrobats in disguise – taking hold of Simon, binding and gagging him and then putting him inside a big wardrobe.

Playing the role of a wizard, Stilo, much unaware of the fact, kept on casting spells and Simon moved location every time. The thieves searched the chests, the closets, and they always lifted a panel or opened a door showing the poor bound and gagged Simon being moved around by Stilo’s spells.

It didn’t really make sense, but crowds loved it. The extra revenue they attracted helped the other numbers look better. New artists lined up to join the circus, but only very talented ones were admitted. It worked better and better, and all those hard times were starting to be a long while away.

Simon enjoyed his job; he wanted to own a theatre, and he learned a lot. He knew he would be educated too, as he planned to go to university, with Stilo’s support. He was taking lessons by mail, and he was sharp. There was no doubt he would do well in higher education.

The circus had started an European tour six months previous: Italy, Germany, France, Holland had welcomed the American artists warmly; for our young redheaded escape artist, the journey had been an opportunity for discovering this Old World he’d been told about so many times. He was looking forward to the last stretch of the tour, when he would discover the land he came from, Ireland.

Already, having crossed the Channel made communication with locals easier. Simon managed well thanks to his skills for body language, but it was nicer when people spoke a language you understood. Of course, the Brits sounded a bit strange, but Simon quickly picked up on the weird accent.

There was still one more performance left in the town the circus had settled in. This meant that Simon could head back to his caravan early after the show; tomorrow, he would have to help take down the big top; today, he could go to sleep after a lengthy day of labour. He would put some clothes on, as he was still wearing his stage costume that left his legs and torso bare. He was thinking of the cup of tea he’d have, a local custom he enjoyed.

The chemical he was forced to breathe by the person who’d assaulted him was no tea, but it didn’t put him fully to sleep; his body went limp, and his perception of the outside world became foggy. He was helped down to the floor, while in the first grasp of his attacker.

Lying face down, he felt the hand keeping the chemical-soaked wad over his mouth relieve its pressure. Simon tried to scream, but he realized that his vocal chords were numb as well. A faint gurgling sound came out before the hand covered his mouth again.

“Hush, Simon. There’s no need for you to fight back. You can hear me, I know. You’re paralyzed for at least ten minutes. And once you recover, you can trust your friend Wilhelm for having turned you into a tightly restrained parcel, all bound and gagged to be shipped home.”

He felt ropes wrapped around his bare limbs, with coils tightening; he just couldn’t react and his senses failed him. His mind reeled with this distorted feeling of Wilhelm’s touch as he straddled him when he needed to move to improve his rope work.

“I’ve been longing for this moment, my young escape artist friend. For three years I thought about you quite often,” Wilhelm said as he finished tying Simon’s elbows together, “ imagining how great it would be to have you as my prisoner for an equally long time.”

Simon had thought about his ordeals at the hands of the older teenager too. Late at night he found himself recollecting the kidnapping adventures. As he had grown up and discovered how his penis could be used beyond relieving his bladder, he’d linked his reactions to a fantasy of being the Lederhosen-clad boy.

“These ropes should hold you properly. Let me make sure you remain quiet as I carry you outside.”

Simon’s vocal chords were still numb from the chemical , but his gurgling could be noticed slightly more. To mute even this faint noise, Wilhelm crammed a ball of silk inside the redhead’s mouth.

“You remember my taste for effective gags, my little captive?”

Simon did remember, and though he’d met quite a few villains who’d used intensely muting gags since his adventures at Wilhelm’s, the skill and know-how of the blond captor were high on the list of most thorough gag experts. His red ball gag was stuck between his lips and tightly buckled over his neck, making the silk ball expand and wedge his mouth slightly open, with no hope to exhale any air, let alone make himself heard.

It was then topped by a leather piece that would keep his jaws locked and heighten the pressure of the stuffing in his mouth. When Simon saw the apparatus, he knew it would really make his calling for help impossible. This particular piece of equipment looked like it would cover his lips and effectively seal them, as the leather would keep his lower jaw pulled tightly upwards. This was Wilhelm for sure.

Simon remembered all too well how thoroughly he had been silenced when he’d been under Wilhelm’s control. He had experienced more gags since, with the various kidnappings he’d been the target of, and with the experiments he’d undertaken with his various tie-up assistants.

“Your vocal chords should work anytime now, but I think this nice stuffing and the rest of the masterful gagging should prevent any unwanted noise. Don’t worry, Simon, this time I won’t make any mistake, and rest assured you won’t scream for help. I know of ways, remember?”

The talking went on as Wilhelm made the final touch to his trussing up, reinforcing the ropes with criss-crosses and frapping knots that tightened the ropes restraining Simon’s limbs.

Then the young escape artist was laid at the edge of a blanket; Wilhelm rolled him inside, until he was within three layers of thick wool. It was one situation Simon had learned to handle; escape was possible. It would take time; more restraining layers meant his escaping required both more finesse and brute force, depending on the stage of the escape.

“I know you must be thinking that ropes can be defeated. They can, actually. There’s no challenge now, though. If I catch you trying to escape, I’ll bind you further; I regret being so lenient already.”

Simon couldn’t help but grunt in disagreement, a hearty laughter replying to his muffled plea.

“Ha! Ha! I’m glad you didn’t lose your fighting spirit after all those years. This will enhance my pleasure at keeping you captive.”

The straps and ropes that mummified Simon inside the blanket were carefully woven around him.

“We’ll be on our way now, my little prisoner. I’ve got to get you home as discretely as possible, and holding you as tight as a bug in a rug is a good start,” Wilhelm said as he kneeled down to get Simon on his shoulder, holding to his legs as his body was folded in two at the hips.

They went out in the night. No one could be seen or heard, and the walk was short, as Simon was soon put in the back of a big vehicle; it had to be some kind of truck, or a lorry to use the local lingo.

“I’ll strap you so you don’t roll around and hurt yourself.”

Simon could feel he was being anchored to the bottom of the truck he had been brought into. Six points of anchoring, if he counted well.

“All set for travelling, Simon,” Wilhelm whispered, “It’s going to take a little while but then I’m sure you’ll be glad to discover your new home.”

Simon heard a door being slammed, an engine starting. Wilhelm had certainly planned his abduction carefully. Simon focussed on escaping while he was left in the back.

Eventually, Simon found the weakness in the set-up. He had to twist around a bit, but he felt he could get his right elbow loose. From there, he would free his wrist and then it wouldn’t take him more than thirty seconds to be completely rid of his bonds and restraints.

He started this task wholeheartedly; soon he’d managed to free his elbow as foreseen. The wrist proved more difficult because of the extra restraints holding him to the floor of the lorry.

At last his wrist was free; Simon started twisting around to remove the rest of the ropes, but the straps around the blankets and these bonds keeping him pinned down to the metal hampered his progress.

The vehicle stopped all of a sudden. A door slammed shut, certainly the driver’s. Steps went around the vehicle.

“We’re home, Simon, let me get you out…”

Wilhelm had opened the back latch which allowed him to guess how far Simon had gotten into his escape attempt. The young escape artist got all frantic, mewling into his gag and shaking within the confines of the bundling blanket.

“Uh oh, it seems I have a guest who’s trying to worm his way out of my bonds. This won’t do!”

Wilhelm had already jumped into the lorry, and his hands were feeling for Simon’s arms through the wool. Straddling his captive, he released the straps pinning him to the bottom. Putting all of his weight on the boy’s waist, he felt confident that his prisoner wouldn’t be able to pull a dirty trick.

The elbows were still restrained; he tightened the straps and belts that coiled around them. He grabbed another strap from the bag lying next to the captive boy, and used it to pin Simon’s forearms to his sides again.

Chapter 2 – Overnight Stay

“It seems you’ve improved, I wasn’t sure you’d pass this test. I’d advise you to quit twisting once I carry you. You wouldn’t want to fall head first, would you?”

Simon had already been pulled to the side of the platform, and Wilhelm’s arms wrapped around his waist before his abductor hauled him up onto his shoulder. With his head turned to the ground, Simon tried to get a grasp of his environment. It was dark, but he detected the smell of the countryside.

Wilhelm took a few steps before Simon felt him twisting around, using one of his arms to grab something from his pocket. The sound of a door being latched open was unmistakable. Wilhelm stepped in, turned around to shut it and he then switched the light on. The weak glow of a light bulb was cast on the inside of a small cottage,

“We’ve driven enough for the day, Simon. I need some rest, and so do you. I’ve rented a room we may have some privacy in. The landlady lives on the other side of this wall,” he said, having put Simon down on his feet, “and I’m afraid she’s really deaf, so I doubt she’d hear anything even if you were able to scream at the top of your lungs.”

Simon was looking around. This was a medium-sized room, with a table, two chairs and a couch on one side, and a sink next to a stove on the other. There were beams in the middle, the apparent remnants of a partition wall. The one in the middle was straight and Simon had a hunch this would play a role in restraining him. Wilhelm had positioned him so he would face the wooden post. The blond kidnapper noticed Simon’s gaze, after having swept the room, focused on this fixture in front of him.

“Glad it catches your interest,” Wilhelm said as he opened a large chest that lay behind the table, “which is good since you’re going to get better acquainted with this sturdy beam. Let me get some ropes, this should bring back memories.”

Once many coils were laid at the foot of the pole, it was time to get Simon out of the wrapped up blanket and straps. Cuffs came out of Wilhelm’s pocket. Simon knew the model, these were really hard to pick; as they snatched around his wrists, his arms were now pulled behind him. Wilhelm was still stronger than he was, although not much. Simon had grown up since their first encounter, but Wilhelm had a positional advantage and he knew how to free only one limb at a time.

Simon was made to stand against the post, and a rope came around his waist, which pulled him against it. From there, the weaving started; Wilhelm had gotten even better with time, and had probably practiced on some poor boy. Coils restrained Simon at eight places, from his shoulders to his ankles, and then a long doubled up rope was threaded so as to pull him further to the beam.

Wilhelm made sure Simon’s elbows were stringently bound to each other and to the post. This was a major factor in making an escape difficult, if not impossible.

It did bring back memories. The touch of the knot enthusiast was quite similar, his fingers were just more nervous and soon, Wilhelm got the satisfaction of removing the handcuffs; with an expert escapist, it was more challenging without chains. Of course, he’d have to keep an eye on the captive, but he didn’t mind since it was a real treat.

Simon’s blue silk briefs now were filled with the evidence he’d turned into a young man. Wilhelm enjoyed the fact that he hadn’t much changed his circus costume. He had only very fair hair covering his legs. The gag enhanced his eyes. The dark brown leather had been picked to produce this effect.

“It’s like I’ve never left you, my handsome escape artist. I plan to have you please my eyes for a very long time. I have costumes for you. For now, I’ll give you a sip of water to drink before I get to sleep. It’s late, and we have a long day tomorrow.

Wilhelm approached with a bottle. He removed the gagging layers one by one. Once the stuffing was removed, he brought the bottle to Simon’s lips. The captive knew better than trying to scream, with Wilhelm’s wide hand so close; the bottle was being taken away from his lips after he had gulped quite a bit of the refreshing liquid when there was a knock at the door.

Simon saw surprise over Wilhelm’s face. He didn’t seem to be waiting for anyone. There wasn’t anything to lose, so he tried his luck.

“Helphmm! Mmmmbllmmm!”

There had been a yelp that had lasted a fifth of a second, but already Wilhelm had handgagged him.

“Oh, no, you won’t…”

The hand was removed slowly, and Wilhelm opened his jaws as he slid the soaked wadding inside the boy’s mouth. From there, the gagging was swift and effective: the ball was crammed over the packing and the straps were quickly buckled at the nape of his neck.

Wilhelm, having prevented any major screaming, could rush to the door. He opened it, making sure no one outside could see inside the cottage; Simon could hear the conversation. It was the voice of an elderly lady, who wanted to know if her young tenant wanted tea or coffee in the morning.

Simon yelled, but he only managed a “Mmmph” that was inarticulate and subdued. Wilhelm was taking his time, even venturing into casual talk.

“Thanks for asking, Mrs Wilkins. I’m quite grateful you come to ask, even so late. I sure would love some tea in the morning. Do you know what the weather will be like tomorrow?”

“Oh, it should be cloudy, but I don’t think it’ll rain. The clouds were quite light, and my rheumatism don’t bother me…”

“Mmmmmmmmm…”

This went on for another two minutes, and Simon felt like he was miles away from the chatting pair. Eventually, the old lady wished Wilhelm a good night. He waited for a few seconds after closing the door. He spun on his heel, a feral grin on his face.

“The old biddy didn’t have a clue you were here. I can’t believe she was up so late. But this made for an interesting challenge. Which I won, by the way.”

The satisfaction the kidnapper derived from keeping Simon out of earshot from anybody was one of his great joys; Simon was troubled by the memories of these moments when Wilhelm had managed to keep him hidden from people in his large Kansas estate. Such memories had popped up in his dreams a rather high number of times; people also reminded him of the dire adventure, which had struck some people’s attention. The physiological response to the situation was in line with these moments. Alas, Wilhelm noticed…

“My, my, Simon, it seems you’ve grown a bit bigger down there,” he said, pointing to Simon’s crotch, “I’ve suspected since you were snatched away from me that you did get some strange kick out of being all trussed up and gagged. Talking of which, it’s time I make sure you can’t warn the nosy neighbour of your presence. You know how kind I am; I’ll muzzle you so it’s comfortable enough for you to sleep.”

He went to his bag and picked up a wide scarf. He came and removed the red rubber ball that was held by its stringent leather straps that were biting into Simon’s neck. The wet stuffing was removed once again, but the scarf had been balled up and it slid inside Simon’s mouth effortlessly.

“Suck on it, my little ginger. I’ve made sure it would taste of me.”

As Simon’s tongue came into contact with the fabric, he recognized the taste. Simon had squirted some juice when masturbating for over two years, and he’d licked his own emissions a few times. As he moved his jaws, producing saliva, he could detect Wilhelm had wanked in the silky fabric more than once. It had left a thick crust.

“I wouldn’t want you to quit laundering my hankie too soon, my boy, so a little taping is in order.”

Wilhelm kept a hand clamped over Simon’s face and mouth, and his bottomless pockets yielded a roll of tape. He’d introduced Simon to the fiendish material, which made for very thorough imprisoning of the mouth. Five wide strips were plastered over the boy’s lower face. There was no turn around his head. Simon expected gauze, or a rubber cap, which had been used that first time when he was in Wilhelm’s clutches. But a more elaborate solution had been picked from his abductor’s bag of tricks.

“A fine leather hood I’ve had made just for you, Simon!”

He stuck his hands inside, and Simon could see that there was an opening in front, but that it would go down to the base of his neck. Wilhelm carefully slid the thin layer of leather over his head; the opening let his eyes and nose visible, but it spread down his neck. Wilhelm adjusted the garment so it would be aligned with Simon’s regular features.

The tightening of a lace at the back started, from just under the crown of his hair to the bottom, which reached well over his spine. The smell and touch of the kid leather tightening over his head confused him, as he was further aroused. He’d been hooded when he’d been kidnapped by the maniac in California, but this was more like a sack pulled over his head; it blinded him, whereas this contraption was the product of some skilled craftsman.

“All done; I think you’re ready for the night. I’m a light sleeper, but I doubt you now can wake me up.”

Wilhelm’s hands slid down Simon flanks, landing on the bulge tenting his gleaming underwear. Wilhelm’s hand had a touch which had nothing to do with the one he used when he was engaged in ropework. His hands were caressing, and they cupped his genitals lightly; Wilhelm was feeling the length of his dick with his index finger.

“Mmmmph…” Simon wailed and instantly regretted this moan; it was a hint that he liked the situation.

“You know, Simon, I’m glad to see you again too!”

The smile was genuine; Wilhelm seemed relaxed, standing in front of the captive pressed against his post.

“I might put your mind at ease, my handsome prisoner. I no longer feel like making away with you. You see, Simon, I’ve changed a lot since I escaped from the asylum where I had been locked up. And I’ve learned trades and skills over here in England. I’ve worked as a tailor and as a locksmith. I must say that you’ve been on my mind all this time. I’ve longed for having you as my prisoner; to be more accurate, I’ve dreamed about having you as a pet. A cute, obedient little mutt whom I’d handle with care. So I’ve planned a training program for you; at the end of this, I’m sure you will want to stay my guest forever. You’d better, for I have also developed my kidnapping skills, and I can safely say you won’t be able to play your Houdini tricks on me. But enough babbling. I’m feeling tired, so I’m going to sleep.”

Simon was wondering what was in store for him. He looked at Wilhelm, who was heading to the chest. He picked up his sleeping outfit. It was a dark grey satin suit, which was cut to fit Wilhelm closely. Simon admired how well it was cut once his kidnapper had dropped off the thick canvas pants and jackets that gave him the look of an actual truck driver.

His uncovered body was a sight to see, and the bound redhead had an appreciative eye for the well-toned, lean and muscular young man who’d imprisoned him. The clothes he slid in didn’t make the show any less appealing, on the contrary.

He ended the dressing up by putting kid leather gloves on. They covered up to the wrist; they were tight, but Wilhelm’s relentless efforts eventually paid. The made-to-measure accessories stuck closely to the flesh beneath, its gleam allowing seeing the slightest move underneath.

Simon was overwhelmed by the rush of feelings going through his mind. Wilhelm approached him; Simon could read the lecherous look over his face. It broke into a feral grin.

“You’ve behaved reasonably well, except of course for the escape attempt, but it will be dealt with another day. I wouldn’t mind you get a small reward.”

The gesture that came next made quite explicit the nature of the reward: the gloved right hand cupped Simon’s silk-covered genitals.

“A little package all tight and taut. Oh! It twitches when I brush against its tip. Himmel, Simon! You want me to go on, don’t you.”

The rubbing was meant to discover the most sensitive spots; Wilhelm had learned how to assess what was the best way to give another man pleasure, and he relished the idea of discovering what caused Simon’s strongest reactions to being masturbated. He was now rolling the prisoner’s glans between his thumb and index finger.

In hindsight, it wasn’t a surprise that Simon spurt his cream in no time, considering the caress was meant for this. Wilhelm had imagined his game could go on for much longer, though. He would have to learn how to best handle the ginger Houdini not to let him climax. Having removed his hand when Simon started cumming inside his briefs, Wilhelm stood in front of his prisoner again.

“My, my, my! I think I haven’t seen many boys get to the end so quickly before. One or two, maybe, but you must have broken their record. I’d say you are going to be lots of fun to train in this area too. Since you don’t feel like playing much longer, there’s no reason I spare any more efforts, myself. I’m really going to sleep this time. I’ll cover you first…”

The blanket he was brought in was wrapped around Simon’s erect form, with the customary straps to keep them from falling. With his prisoner kept warm, Wilhelm picked up the thin mattress from the cot with the sheets and blanket on, and he laid it at his captive’s feet.

“One last thing…”

He had a roll of fishing line. He fumbled with the blankets at Simon’s waist level, to temporarily uncover the boy’s hands. He tied a loop around the boy’s pinkies, and threaded it down the pole; he put the blankets back on so the insulating effect wasn’t marred and unrolled the thin line until he was lying down.

“The other end of the line is tied around my pinkie, so if you twitch or manage to free your hands while I sleep, I should be warned early enough to see to it that even the idea of an escape would cause you to sweat…”

With that, Wilhelm dunked under the blankets and fell silent. After two minutes, his slow and regular breathing indicated he was fast asleep. Simon twitched around, careful not to pull on the fishing line; yet testing bonds and restraints was a second nature to him, and he had to check whether he could work his magic on Wilhelm’s knots. It seemed unlikely.

He relaxed and let go; if he could catch a little rest. He could smell leather under his nostrils, and a warm scent came from below—Wilhelm’s. But Simon wasn’t sure he wasn’t imagining it; this made the whole experience special. He thought he’d never meet Wilhelm again, and he was, being his prisoner in a remote place in the English countryside.

Sleep came and went; the moments in between had chunks of sentences and fugitive sights rushing through his head. They all had to do with what had happened to Simon the first time, and the words that Wilhelm had spoken to ‘welcome’ him once he’d been completely trussed up to the pole; the perspective of living this situation was both maddening,:he was deprived of freedom, yet he couldn’t help being exceptionally aroused.

Chapter 3 – Welcome To Your New Home

The night went by slowly, but it was Wilhelm pulling over the fishing line, which woke the captive up. The pulling of his fingers got Simon to drift back to reality, leaving the dream in which Wilhelm took him down to the basement of a large house whose stairs went down for miles, with Wilhelm coaxing him with the prospect of rewards and further erotic treatments.

“I’ll go have some tea with Mrs. Wilkins, Simon, and then I’ll come back to get you ready for the journey,” Wilhelm said as he slipped his work clothes over his refined pyjamas.

The door slammed shut three minutes later, Simon remaining by himself in his unchanged position. It was high time he could use his escaping skills It turned out that none of the mistakes the circus aides used for his numbers had been made this time. Beyond using tricked rope, accomplices who bound him always made a voluntary mistake, resulting in a tie that looked impressive but that could be slipped out of.

Wilhelm was no participant in a circus show. His rope was first rate and had very little yield. Grunts accompanied the efforts, but this was no good, and no progress whatsoever had been made when Wilhelm came back half and hour later, pushing a large contraption on wheels.

“Time to move on, Simon. I might have given you the impression this would become your residence, but it’s not. I have an even better location where I can keep you and have you become my best friend.”

He was pushing a crate that was on top of a gurney. It was the size of a small coffin. Simon had no doubt he was meant to be put in it.

“This is my special guest case. On top of learning honest trades, I’ve also honed my kidnapper skills. This is a good way to earn large amounts of money in very little time. Of course, it works only if you plan carefully and make all the necessary leg work before so it’s hassle-free. I’ve never had a problem identifying a proper target, acquiring it and then getting a ransom. You need to assess properly what the ransom should be, which means you can’t abduct a boy at random. You need to make it high enough so you’re deemed serious, while still making sure the parents or tutors have the means to get all this money. But once this is all set, it can be pulled out in less than forty-eight hours.”

This didn’t surprise Simon in the least. Of course, Wilhelm would have been able to set up a kidnapping like no one. He opened the lid of the crate, and Simon could see that Wilhelm had procured the means to his endeavours.

Simon’s trade had gotten him to get close to dozens of crates or confined spaces which he, or other circus artists like the magician’s assistants, would get in; depending on the number, they would switch to another similar crate, be split in two, or disappear only to reappear at the back of the audience, unscathed after having mysteriously escaped the grisly fate the restraints made a certainty. The audience was baffled, and it attracted a bigger crowd the next day, and the day after.

These accessories needed to be crafted well, so any trickery would be concealed. As Simon and Stilo had purchased such contraptions, the boy had learned to appraise the quality of the wares they were presented. Simon knew the value of things, and he wasn’t the one to squander luscious amounts on a trick that they’d have to give up because the audience could see the treachery.

This crate wasn’t meant for show. It aimed at keeping people inside; it didn’t feature a trick exit. Simon spotted the sturdy build and the absence of any removable panel straight away. It was very expertly crafted nonetheless: leather cuffs with iron buckles were positioned at various points. The cuffs were fixed onto rails, so there could be adjustments depending on the size of the occupant. They seemed resistant and thoughtfully laid out.

Padding was stuck at various places: the neck, the waist, the knees, so it would prevent a poor boy being stored in it for transportation any motion that could cause a shock and hence a noise that could be heard outside.

The transition from the pole to the transportation crate took a little under an hour. There were many safety measures to be enacted by Wilhelm; this meant nothing could be made in a straightforward and fast manner. Eventually, though, Simon was lying inside his back inside the crate.

Wilhelm checked on the cuffs pinning him inside one by one. The hood needed a little tug to be perfectly lined up with his head. There had been a quick drink before, which meant Wilhelm had had the pleasure of removing the hood and the gagging layers underneath; he had not stalled when it had been time to silence Simon again. The hood was really a good size estimate, and having been worn all night by Simon, the leather had somewhat taken the shape of his skull and jaws.

“The crate has small rails on the side, which you saw, no doubt. They glide through roller bearings so it’s easy to slide it under the lorry’s floor. The panel at the back hides the hidden compartment, and you’ll be the fourth person to be transported this way. It’s taken me almost a week to set it up, but this is a handy feature for a kidnapper. Now you feel how the padding holding you with the restraints on top make you helplessly immobile. Another two to tighten, and you’ll be all set.”

Once the tightness was optimal, Wilhelm took a few minutes to admire the final result. It was simple, and the position was not utterly intolerable. Simon was on his back, his arms along his body, except each of them was anchored at four points to the wooden container. The same was true of his legs.

When eventually Wilhelm closed the lid shut, the darkness and the touch of the wooden lid lightly pressing over his chest made Simon realize there was little he could do to escape this nasty trap. He felt the crate being pushed. The gurney had very good wheels, and it went smoothly; Simon couldn’t tell he was being wheeled outside; he felt an upward motion, as Wilhelm tipped the crate to have it slide inside its secret chamber.

The panel behind was shut and locked, which Simon heard. Several minutes passed without any noise or motion; Simon was starting to wonder whether he was fully isolated and hence couldn’t pick on any motion from the truck when this misconception was proved wrong by the sound and vibrations from a large engine.

This was an actual ordeal; Simon wasn’t claustrophobic, which would have made his job impossible; he wasn’t used to long durations inside such a cramped space, bound, gagged and helplessly restrained to the walls of a coffin.

The lorry stopped from time to time. He heard voices outside; they were faint, but he discerned two speakers. The fiendish gag made his attempts at yelling a silly gurgle. No doubt one of the speakers was Wilhelm, getting some enjoyment from knowing a couple feet away, Simon had to accept his fate.

Eventually, the lorry stopped for good. The panel behind him was unlocked, and the crate slid on its rails to be laid upon the gurney. There was more wheeling, the sound of a door opening, closing as the trolley was pushed ahead.

The lid opened. Simon blinked; the light was faint, yet he’d been plunged into darkness for a lifetime now.

“You seem to be doing fine. We’re home, Simon!”

All Simon could see was a ceiling, white, and Wilhelm towering over him. He was at his side, smiling.

“I’ll take you out from the crate. You might need to relieve yourself after such a long time inside your crate.”

Wilhelm was wearing his leather gloves. He sniffed around as he leaned towards the redhead captive inside the crate.

“You’ve been warm, haven’t you? You’ve sweated quite a bit. I’ll feed you and I clean you next.”

The routine started, Wilhelm never forgetting to link a limb before moving to the next, so he had him out of the crate only to be fettered with chains locked to cuffs. The rest of the handling was performed flawlessly too; Simon was too focused in obtaining the benefits from the care he was provided to jeopardize it by being difficult. Wilhelm had not turned into a harmless lamb yet.

Simon also took in his new environment. They were still in the countryside, possibly at a more remote location. There were curtains at the windows, but he could see green and the faint glow of the sunset outside, so there was a garden or a meadow.

The inside was definitely a rural setting. The walls were painted white, so it was difficult to see what they were made out of; the tiles were dark red stone. They weren’t worn, so it could be a building that was recent. Or a location that didn’t have many visitors.

There was a small room with rudimentary toilets and a sink with a faucet, so hygiene could be handled. There was a stove and a hearth in what had to be a kitchen, with a table and four chairs. Simon had been taken out of his crate in the next room, which was an entrance hall, a living room and a bedroom at the same time.

“This is a hunting lodge I’ve bought from a good friend of mine.”

Simon was reacquainted with Wilhelm now; he read his smirk. There was more to this purchase, and no doubt there was another story to be told, involving some kidnapping or other devious scheme involving Wilhelm.

Simon entered the room, prodded by his captor now that he’d been relieved, fed and watered. And gagged anew; but with a fresh, clean silk scarf as wadding and two others to keep the first one, one pulled between his teeth and a covering one on top.

“And I bring game back to the lodge. Now, securing the wild animal so I’m sure he won’t flee.”

Wilhelm’s hand left Simon’s shoulder. He was to stand on his own, as his host went to open a door Simon hadn’t noticed so far. There was a third room behind. Simon came back pushing a wheelchair.

Chapter 4 – Adapted Environment

The chrome tubes shone, the polished leather that made the seat, back and part of the footrests had been well greased and rubbed so it glimmered in the faint light of the electric bulb mixed to the flames of the fire Wilhelm had lit in the hearth. The numerous straps and attachments caught Simon’s eye immediately. Of course, this was to be expected. Yet this was a formidable display, with at least as many straps than in the crate, but wider and thicker ones, with the hefty brass buckles promising an inexorable grip. No hint was given than Wilhelm had lied about having the means to reach his goal. So far, he’d made no mistake and proved how well prepared he was.

It wasn’t as much toil to sit him and strap him down in the wheelchair as when sticking him in the crate. This meant he could perceive even more strongly how much attention Wilhelm was putting into handling his captive.

“This is going to be handy over the first few days you stay here. I told you about training. We’ll start with hard and helpless restraints, so you know what to expect if you’re to be given a little more leeway a few days from now.”

The cuffs could be locked in place, immobilizing the limbs. No joint could twist at any significant angle, which was key to prevent escape. Wilhelm adjusted the straps one by one, fine-tuning the tension so his captive’s body would be staged to his peculiar tastes. Simon ended as a sculpture, with symmetry in the set-up.

“This allows some degree of freedom for me, as I can move around while keeping an eye on you. I can show you around, so you may discover facilities that have been designed for keeping a guest like you.”

The first room was furnished like an ordinary English countryside interior, but Wilhelm pointed the many hooks and points that made it possible to attach things to, the three beams that supported the crossbar on which the ceiling rested. He also pointed to a large wardrobe with a large mirror over its door; Wilhelm took some time to have Simon ‘admire’ himself. The sight was amazing to the young escape artist; the black bands keeping him pinned to the chair enhanced his bare parts.

“Before I show you something that will really amaze you, I’d better make sure you can’t react too violently; I especially wouldn’t want you to make a fuss, or start begging or insulting me. This is why I should get you gagged with something that’s a bit more effective in reminding you how much I value you unable to utter a sound…”

There was now furniture around them that could conceal more fiendish devices for restraining him. Simon saw Wilhelm open such a closet, in which rubber balls on straps hung, along with other gagging contraptions. Simon opened his eyes wide as he saw the rubber thing that his abductor picked up.

He did fight the switch from his scarf gagging to the rubber set-up half-heartedly, calming down when threatened by Wilhelm.

“Quit struggling, I’ll fit you with this muzzle whatever it takes; you know I always get my ways. Good, you seem to understand what’s good for you. Let me first insert the rubber bulb inside, open your jaws, see how the little rubber piece has grooves for your teeth? No matter how much you tighten your jaws, you can’t damage the tube that’s a main feature of this contraption.”

Wilhelm was adjusting the muzzle; its rubber bulb for the mouth was attached to a front panel that encased the lower jaw and face, with straps pulling it taut over Simon’s cheeks and making it difficult for him to stretch his jaw. The rubber clamped over his skin ruthlessly. Wilhelm picking up a hand pump with a tube and a steel nozzle at the end made him fear what was to come next.

He’d seen such a device in stores, as they had sometimes come across vendors of escape artistry goods that had a range of products aimed at a more private and exclusive clientele. He hadn’t been gagged with one, though. As Wilhelm inserted the nozzle inside a small hole in the middle of the front panel, Simon tried assess the size of the bulb inside his mouth. His captor started pumping, and the rubber bladder developed inside his mouth, lining his palate and pushing his tongue down. No speech was possible.

Wilhelm kept on pumping; his jaws stretched as much as the chin straps passing above his head allowed; it wasn’t much, but the pressure kept growing, as Wilhelm was slowly inflating the plug inside his mouth. The bladder now felt like a hard block invading his mouth.

“Mmm…”

“You can’t make much more than a faint hum through your nose Simon.”

The taunting went on after Wilhelm was done pumping, effectively gagging his prisoner. Wilhelm stopped dead in his tracks, as if under panic.

“Listen! Can’t you hear?”

In the silence that fell upon the room, Simon heard far away voices.

“Mmm!?”

“Try all you want,” Wilhelm said, his laughter indicating it had been an act, “I doubt the passer-bys who walk on the path that goes in front of the cottage can hear you. But please knock yourself out if you think you can manage to attract their attention. No one will take you away from me this time.”

Simon knew that no one was impervious to mistakes. Certainly Wilhelm would make one, as he had done many when abducting Simon and his own brother years ago.

“Now that I have you quiet as a church mouse, I can show you a more impressive feature of my facilities.”

Wilhelm opened the door leading to the room where he’d gotten the wheelchair; he was taking it back in, but with a passenger this time. There was a large rack on the right, with what looked like a sewing machine and what appeared to be various construction tools.

“My workshop; as I told you, I’ve learned a couple trades, and being able to apply them in my household is much needed. I’m sure you’ll approve when you enjoy the goods I’ve crafted with you in mind.”

This sounded ominous; Simon wondered what Wilhelm’s obsession with him would yield; how wicked would his restraining devices be?

One wall at the back seemed more recent. A large cage was against the wall on the left of the wide space. That’s where Wilhelm was pushing the wheelchair; as he approached, Simon could see the cage was protecting a pit; there were pulleys and large belts.

“My lift. This was made at the end of the last century. It’s in perfect working condition.”

He opened the grid and they went inside the large lift cage. There was a large wheel of the wall, which Wilhelm started operating.

“No motor on this one, so it uses some muscle. I hope one day you may be the one cranking the wheel so I don’t need to exhaust myself.”

Simon would have traded places without giving it one second of thought. But he was prevented from making the offer. He watched Wilhelm’s lithe body produce the effort; this system worked well, but it wasn’t fast. The cage passed a bed of rock, then eventually reached some cave. No light was on, and the faint glow coming from the lift wasn’t enough to cut into the darkness.

They had arrived when a click indicated they’d reached the bottom of the pit. Wilhelm slid the iron gate opened and took a few steps outside. He pulled a switch on, and the whole world that had been hidden appeared all of a sudden.

“The basement, Simon. You’re bound to spend some time down here in the weeks to come. I’m certain you will appreciate some of the equipments and features. Let me give you a quick tour.”

To Simon, it looked more like a cave than a basement. It was carved in rock, from the walls he could see. It was six or seven feet high in all places, and there were doors in some of the walls. There were racks, pillories, chains, which made it look like one of these medieval dungeons of the Inquisition or some similar setting. Simon had read his share of popular fiction in which villains had sophisticated lairs; he had even been held within the confines of old buildings in cellars that were quite similar.

This was much more; it was a modern setting, in which electric light made it easier to get by. Yet it looked like a museum. Simon had visited a couple wax museums with medieval torture on display; now he had one that had been built for him.

Chapter 5 – Out of Reach

The visit went on. The big room had two racks, a cross, stone pillars, numerous places where he could be suspended in ropes. Wilhelm detailed the many scenarios that could be enacted in this very specific room.

Once he’d imagined various uses for the trestles, the pummel horse-like piece, the standing cross, the various cages, Wilhelm went for the doors.

The first gave inside a narrow hall, which was barely wide enough to have the wheelchair go through. There was a door on the right. It was opened, and the red glow of a tinted light bulb cast his reddish hue over Wilhelm’s face.

“My photography lab. I can take and process pictures of a kidnap victim without anyone seeing them but me! This makes for more convincing ransom notes. I plan to take many pictures of you, Simon.”

The rubber inflatable gag kept Simon’s protests at a minimum. He had been photographed while bound and gagged by some of his previous kidnappers. The Pennsylvania industrialist had some similar facilities inside his large villa, and a taste for demeaning clothing. Thankfully the police had destroyed all films and prints featuring Simon in various states of dress or undress, and experiencing strict restraints at the hands of the rather sadistic heir to a great steelmaking family.

Wilhelm wheeled his captive out. He showed him what was behind the two other doors. They were cells, with a board to sit or sleep on and a bucket. There were rings of iron stuck into the walls.

“If you misbehave, or if I have to take a long journey, this is where you’ll stay. It’s impossible to be heard from the outside once we’re so deep underground. So I may leave you with food and water for a few days, and content myself with a few chains as restraints. I have a muzzle that makes it possible to drink while making loud noise or articulate speech impossible. I may even let you without a gag when you’re in here. Don’t worry, this won’t happen too much. You look so good with a gag on that I won’t let too many occasions go by. I think I’ll even leave the fine one you’ve got on as I introduce you to the gibbet cage.”

Simon had spotted the contraption hanging from the ceiling at the end of a heavy chain. Simon knew much about medieval torture; for their new numbers, they had used historical elements to make for gripping plots that grabbed the audience and made them side with Simon.

The gibbet cage Wilhelm had in his cellar of doom seemed to be sized just for Simon; it actually was.

“The cage catches your eyes, my sweet one, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, you’ll get to experience its grip soon enough. But we’re not quite done yet with our tour. There is a pillory that you should find most inventive, considering your expertise in restraining apparatuses…”

This wasn’t the only torture device that Wilhelm proudly showed: stocks, stands and bars hanging from the ceiling all could be put to good use for innovative bondage by an aficionado like Wilhelm. None of them could cause real harm, Simon thought, but they would all lock him in the most uncomfortable, and embarrassing positions he could think of, displaying his behind; this seemed one of Wilhelm’s concerns; he’d already enhanced it through clothing. At least, sitting over the wheelchair saved his bum from his captor’s lecherous looks.

This was Wilhelm’s least concern; he was having his big day, with his plan falling out just like he’d envisioned. He had gotten enough feedback from his captive, with his horrified looks and the small gasps the gag made almost imperceptible; it was time for more action and driving the stake all the way down. He pushed Simon’s wheelchair with stops at the Saint Andrew’s cross and the rack that promised hours of tickling fun.

There was a large wardrobe just a few feet away. Wilhelm opened it; in it, there were costumes on coat-hangers. He pulled one: it was a wrestler outfit made of blue silk. In front, Simon the Lousy was embroidered in gold letters. He pulled a grey silk little schoolboy costume. There was a patch over the breast pocket, which said Simon the Lowly.

Some silk pyjamas, the bottom having only one leg, claimed Little Irish Brat. Considering the pinkish hue, this would effectively turn him into a sausage.

“I have a whole trousseau just for you, my sweet little prisoner. And this is only the clothing, there are tons of interesting accessories and devices that you still have find out about. I’m sure you dream of trying one of these outfits, if only to keep you slightly warm…”

Wilhelm picked the little schoolboy costume; he used this more as a pretext to get Simon out of his chair and fondle him; the clothes fit perfectly. His flimsy underwear rubbed against the shorts. This was an excruciating erotic touch to Simon. The red-headed escape artist felt some shame as he got some thrill from being restrained in the wheel chair again.

“You see, Simon, you like me taking care of you.”

He kneaded the package made more obscene by the cut of the peculiar clothes. His touch felt great and Simon wished it would go until its logical end.

“Enough of this,” Wilhelm said as he got back behind the chair and grabbed the handles, “I’m going to give you a last view of the outside, before I get you back in here for the first stretch of your education. This could help you to realize how desperate the situation is for you.”

The climbing back to the ground floor took place in silence, disturbed only slightly by the metallic noises of the lift.

“You’ve seen my comfortable ground floor,” Wilhelm said as he pushed Simon through the kitchen, “and you’ve had a good view of what is in store for you downstairs. I think we may take a little more time to show you what’s outside; I will take you outdoors once your initial training is satisfying to me. There’s lot of fun to be had outdoors, don’t you remember? Being trussed up to trees, or bound standing in a little shed. There are plenty of these around, so it will help us to have some exciting adventures, with you trying to thwart my mastery at bonds and restraints.”

Standing in front of the chair, the blond boy showed the rubber bulb, which he connected to the front of the gag.

“I need to ensure you don’t make a fuss at all.”

The rubber bladder grew in pressure, causing a recriminating grunt from Simon.

“Have you said something? Oh, you can’t with this big rubber envelope inside your mouth. Isn’t it a wonderful gag?”

“Mmmph!”

“Let me strap your head back so it’s neat and tidy.”

Wilhelm loosened the straps and rearranged the long red hair so it was all kept under the thin layer of rubber.

“Now you can’t speak but you look great. Go right ahead, sweet prince, try to call out for help.”

Wilhelm opened the door. It was thick and heavy. Behind it lay a small clearing; there were some trees but it felt more like a garden. It expanded some tens of yards in each direction; wherever the wheelchair allowed him to look, Simon saw woods behind.

Wilhelm pushed him down the small staircase and made his way around the house.

“Come on, who knows, maybe there’s an old lady bundling branches for her chimney?”

“Mmmmblllmmmrrmmm…”

Not only could Simon articulate no sound, this also dampened anything beyond a faint nasal hum.

“What a wonderful device! I can keep you in storage in my hide-out, but I may also have you enjoy the fresh and invigorating spring air. You’ll benefit from this too, far from the city’s poor breathing conditions.”

Simon tried to take in all he could about the lay-out. There were paths leading to the walls, and a larger one that allowed Wilhelm to bring in a vehicle. He also pricked up his ears. Was there life around? A farm a couple hundreds of yards away? A road?

All he could hear was the soft wind rustling in the trees and birds chirping rather loudly; and Wilhelm’s voice, of course.

“I doubt there’s anyone in our immediate vicinity, but with all the trees and leaves, I can’t really tell.”

“MMmmmmmrrmmmmmlllm…”

This would never work. How close would someone need to be to hear his gagged plea?

“Nice try, but I still can’t hear you. You see, Simon, I could keep you trussed up to a tree here and you still would never manage to get anyone to free you. Escape is impossible; get it through your head.”

Simon quieted down; Wilhelm was trying to destroy his willpower. He had to get back in meditation mode, which he’d learned to trigger to endure extended times in tight bondage.

“You give up rather quickly, I see. You don’t seem very eager to grab the opportunities I give you to get out of my claws.”

Puffing up his chest and going for maximum effect, Simon prepared for what was meant to be a loud bellow, but that turned into a faint squeak.

“Gnnnmmmmmmmmmm…”

“If you say so. You’ve tried a bit harder, which I expect from Simon the Pathetic. I don’t think I showed you the Simon the pathetic outfit: it’s just blue silk knickers, to replace your performing costume.”

While Wilhelm blabbered about underwear, they made their way back to the small house. From the outside, it was a charming thatch-roofed cottage; it was adequate camouflage for the large underground floor it sheltered.

Chapter 6 – In to Stay

“Since you’ve been fed and cleaned up, I’ll get you downstairs straight away.”

They entered; Wilhelm locked the door behind him. They were in the lift ten seconds later. The machinery whirred peacefully. Wilhelm deflated the gag lightly as the cabin started its way down.

“I couldn’t help noticing how the gibbet cage caught your eye, little Simon. This is actually a good subjugation tool to start with. Without some hairpin or some of your professional tricks, I know this is inescapable. This’ll help me to spend a good night, not worrying that you fly away from me. Now that I have you back, there’s no way I will let you go anywhere without having a say in it.”

“Mmmbbblllmm?”

Simon tried his humblest tone, hoping he could make Wilhelm change his mind. It was to no avail.

“Of course, silly, I’ll let you stay in it long enough so you may find out about all the wonderful features of the gibbet cage.”

“Mmmmph! Grmmmph!”

They’d reached the lower floor. Wilhelm patted the captive’s head; he wouldn’t acknowledge Simon’s attempt at obtaining some mercy. It didn’t work.

“No need to thank me, I have chosen to treat you with lots of respect, my second-rate escape artist. And this involves having adequate equipment to imprison you properly.”

Wilhelm started turning a wheel; a ratcheting sound accompanied the gibbet cage coming down to the floor.

“We’re still at the very beginning of your stay, Simon, so you’ll excuse me if I use rather drastic safety measures to handle you…”

Simon found out this meant putting a leather harness over his torso before removing him from the chair. Once this was done, Wilhelm had his charge stand up, his feet still strapped to the footrests; he brought his arms behind him and locked them to the harness at ankles and elbows. These didn’t touch, but his arms were pulled taut behind him.

Wilhelm freed his feet and had him step down. He wrapped ankles, calves and thighs in leather straps. He picked him up from behind, his strong hands grabbing his under Simon’s armpits.

“Here you go.”

In one swift move, Wilhelm set Simon over the mall platform at the bottom of the cage. It was shaped like two feet, and there were thin metal strips to clip that were like sandal straps. His immobility was already ensured.

Simon could feel the bar behind him, running along his spine. It was curvy and adapted to his body.

“It has taken some time to adjust the settings, but having gotten accurate measurements for you, it seems I’ve done well the first time.”

Simon had metal at his sides and behind him; Wilhelm closed down the front straps one by one, all nine of them. They were fixed with hinges to the left side and had a hook to latch on the other. They were curved, of various widths, but all hugged his body tightly, pinning him against the back of the cage.

“Little by little, I tighten. And the more I tighten, the more you belong to the cage. So, little birdy, glad to stay protected from predators by your cage?”

“Mmmmh.”

“Good. Let me go over the metal bands.”

He checked the tension: the head, the chest and legs were all kept closely inside; he tightened a bit the band passing above the knees.

“I did well, I think you’re not going anywhere. And the design is convenient too. I can open them one by one, which means I can feed you or have you relieve yourself without releasing you.”

“Mmmbbllmm?”

“Yes, Simon, we’ll start with a twenty-four hour stay in the gibbet cage.”

“MMMH!”

“This didn’t sound too polite. I guess this means maybe I should gag you better?”

Without waiting for an answer to a question that was purely rhetorical, Wilhelm grabbed the tools required to replace the rubber muzzle.”

“Your undies that I took off when I changed you earlier… This will make for proper stuffing. Though…”

Stopping in his tracks, he turned towards Simon, who caught his devious glance. He stepped in front of his caged prisoner, his underwear in hand.

“It’s just the right size for your mouth! I’ll even make it tastier.”

Making sure his prisoner could see it all, Wilhelm brought his leather shorts down to his knees, revealing seven inches of hard manhood. He carefully wrapped his big penis with the underwear and started wanking.

“You’ll need to get used to my taste, and this is a good start to have you use your tongue to relieve my tool.”

He’d caressed softly at first, then his fist pumping got harder and harder.

“Argh,” Wilhelm gasped as his semen flooded the thin piece of fabric, “Here you go, Simon.”

Simon got a clearer view of the adaptability of the design. The metal strip that wrapped his lower face was unlocked and Wilhelm unlocked the straps holding the rubber muzzle glued to Simon’s face.

He deflated the bulb and pulled it out. Simon savoured the relief. After two seconds, with Wilhelm turning his bag on him, picking up stuff for the next stage in the gagging, Simon tried his luck.

“I’m a prisoner, helmmmmmmph!”

“Oh, Simon, you’re so cute when you try. I’m afraid you’ll have to suck on your undies for a while; such an attempt means the gag won’t come off for at least eight hours.”

After cramming the soiled underwear in his prisoner’s mouth, Wilhelm undertook taping his lower face.

“Then you can think of what’s to come. I’m going to keep you here the time it took me to be reunited with you. I have three years with you as my plaything. There’ll be some training, especially at first, but there are lots of games I want to play with you. You’ll see, I’ll give you other opportunities to try your hand at escaping. There are places to visit, people to meet, new experiences to be had. They will all be suited for a bound and gagged escape artist.”

Wilhelm tied a silk scarf over his lower face before he pulled the metal band over it. It felt tighter than before. Simon was completely trapped and made mute.

“I have no intention to have you catch the flu.”

Wilhelm had picked a large woollen blanket from the wardrobe. He spread it over the cage.

“To keep my little birdie warm. Now, you won’t say I didn’t give you the best conditions to practice. If you manage to get out of the cage, you’ll be rewarded; if not, this will mean I’ll have to train you further. I have no doubt I will manage. It’s been a fun day, Simon, so sleep tight. I’ll be on my way.”

Simon heard the lift’s mechanism start again. Once at the top, he heard Wilhelm exit; he switched the light off.

“You won’t be disturbed, Simon the Lowly, so give it your best shot. I know you’ve been proven to be a poor escape artist over these last few days, but I wouldn’t want you to give up. I can’t stand quitters.”

Simon heard the door slam shut, and the key turning inside the lock. He was in for some major time. Feeling strangely comfortable and warm, he ended up snoozing quickly; his dreams that night were filled with Wilhelm’s face and words, and the sight of bound and gagged boys, which got the young performer to feel good.

End of the episode.
to be continued in Nasty Prank, coming to this thread soon
Last edited by Bondwriter 4 years ago, edited 12 times in total.
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Xtc
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Post by Xtc »

Thanks for "tidying this up".
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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blackbound
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Post by blackbound »

Is there more that I missed, or did you just not have time yet?
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Post by Bondwriter »

Hi there, blackbound. I hadn't seen your message. Sorry for the late update.

A Simon and Wilhelm adventure

A nasty prank

Part 1

Wilhelm and Simon were now prepared to leave the cottage and take a walk to the old quarry; this quarry was a large clearing at the bottom of a hill, a solid mile away from the cottage. It had poplar trees, it was in the shade and it bore an air of desolation as it looked abandoned. The quarry no longer was used for its extraction purposes, but Wilhelm had found out while running an errand that a lumberjack was working in this part of the woods.

Wilhelm ran lots of errands; he had to collect parcels with all the materials needed for making his restraining devices; he also was on the look-out for possible kidnap feasts, if he ever needed a supplementary source of income. Plus keeping up with the local gossip was a good way to identify sensitive times when there would be people around the lodge in which he kept Simon prisoner.

The lumberjack stored his equipment in a little shack that used to be part of the extraction outfit; he also was a simple soul, someone whom Wilhelm could easily fool. He’d spied on the man’s comings and goings; this wasn’t a man of surprises and extravaganza, as his routine was rigorously the same over a full week. His general demeanour could also be an asset for what Wilhelm had in mind.

He’d spied on the lumberjack a few times as the man was working on tree-cutting sites; knowing the whereabouts of people working in the forest was important, and it also offered a pleasant show; this lumberjack, for instance, tended to remove his clothes easily, leaving him in tight corduroy shorts, long woollen socks and a little scarf around the neck. Wilhelm noticed the way he ogled his best-looking co-workers; the man had interest in the same ones as the young kidnapper did, which was a clue that his scheme could work.

Wilhelm had managed to keep Simon incommunicado for months now; taking him close to people in the open could have been deemed careless, but it was all part of the fun of what Wilhelm had intended. The time had come for a plot Wilhelm had hatched for weeks. He would have Simon feel utter helplessness again, and his circumspectly thought-out plan had played out many times since he’d first thought about it, with more refined details coming in every time.

Wilhelm liked challenges, and it wouldn’t hurt to test Simon’s escape skills again in a different setting; Wilhelm would test his skills at keeping his prisoner bound and gagged, which he’d managed for the duration of Simon’s involuntary stay. As a captor, making up new situations justifying binding and gagging Simon was motivating; he’d give some hope to his prisoner, only to crush it by having the red-headed escape artist eventually realize he’d stay the guest of Wilhelm’s elaborate rope work and thoroughly silencing gags.

It was a bright Monday morning in April; the day would be warm for the season. There had been three days of rain; staying in the cottage with Simon was fun, but a little outdoor activity would provide the both of them with some change.

Wilhelm had relished getting Simon ready for his time outside. Taking care of Simon was fastidious, but Wilhelm didn’t grow tired of it. He did good, and at nine o’clock straight, just as planned, Wilhelm had his guest on a leash in the small entry hall of the cottage.

Weather and decency prevented Simon from going outside in his usual briefs. Wilhelm had chosen the inconspicuous look of an innocent cub scout for his captive. He’d worked on the “uniform” for a long time, and it had been fully ready for a few days now. Simon’s reaction to the costume was considered positive; Wilhelm enjoyed Simon not making a fuss while vibrating as he was put in the fancy clothing this new adventure required.

The fact that he was constantly gagged didn’t allow Simon to voice any concern, but Wilhelm could read the non-verbal signs his captive displayed throughout the dressing-up process; Simon was certainly very pleased to wear such a spiffy costume. He now looked very much the innocent Cub Scout.

Forest green silk shirt, custom-made flannel shorts and their matching underwear, long white silk stockings and patent black leather shoes: they were all cut just for Simon, and he looked very much the part. A blue silk triangle had been rolled ‘scout neckerchief style’, emphasizing the gleam of the yellow edging; its ends met in a leather ring in the middle of his chest. Wilhelm had thought of making Simon a deserving Cub, by embroidering badges to sew on his shirt. It had taken a few afternoons, but Wilhelm had become used to using the needle on a regular basis, and having developed his skills allowed him to make sure Simon always had nice things to wear.

Embroidering was another issue, but his artistic sense and his eagerness for success had pushed Wilhelm to start over three times, until it would look just right. From a distance, they looked genuine, with bright colours and what had to be stylized signs or symbols relating to the skill or achievement it was related. The small-sized art did depict clearly what areas Simon had graduated in under Wilhelm’s tutelage. Wilhelm had taken his time to explain what it all meant to his young apprentice, showing him the shirt before he’d put it on.

“As a Cub Scout in Wilhelm’s Very Special Troop, you’ve earned three badges. This one, the Square Knot badge, is obvious; it acknowledges your talent at looking good in ropes.”

The next badge had taken a while to design. It was Simon’s face, over a yellow background with a big white scarf tied across his lower face. Simon was amazed at the liking; this was no small feat to get a representation of his gagged face on a few square inches of material, and with a needle, not a pen!

“The gag badge means you’ve passed the gag test enough times. Passing the gag test means being unable to attract attention because you’re gagged skilfully. A badge I’ve helped you to earn many times…”

Not very much interested in Wilhelm’s twisted logic, equating failure with success, Simon could only admire even more the final badge. It looked like a tree at first glance, but there was a red-haired boy bound to it. The criss-cross of white ropes came out very well in its stylization, and the gag contrasted with the body and the trunk. What a masterful job.

“This Nature Lover badge rewards you for your love of trees and outdoors. I’m pleased to have you use these skills once again today.”

The dressing-up ended with headwear, it looked more like a jockey cap than a Cub Scout’s, with four blue and gold panels matching the scarf’s colour. It had a small peak across his forehead; it covered his red hair completely, and a chinstrap so it stayed on the head even when running.

The rucksack was the refined detail that had triggered Wilhelm’s choice. Starting from a conventional rucksack, he had inserted the cut-off bottom of a metal tank that was just the right size to line the bottom of the sack. He had sewn straps the same colour than the shirt on the sides and at the back of the rucksack. Eight straps total, four for each arm.

His arms were fixed at the shoulders and above his elbows; his forearms were strapped at the elbows and wrists. With the fifty-pound bag full, and the canvas stretched, there was no way to wiggle his arms out of the perfectly located sewn straps. The Cub Scout was prisoner of his rucksack.

There were white cuffs at his knees and ankles, blending in the stockings due to their similar colour, with a thin one-foot hobble between each pair.

“I’ll take you out so you benefit the brisk air today, but I don’t want you to start running once we’re outside,” Wilhelm had bluntly commented.

“Mmmph!”

This was very light bondage for Simon. Just the day before, there had been a pole tie-up, which had required ninety yards of clothesline, and he’d spent the evening in a ball tie, which required at least half of that.

The gag, on the other hand, was rather on the heavy side. Simon’s mouth was filled with a plaster casting Wilhelm had made some days after he’d snatched him. It was plaster cast in a balloon, left to dry out and harden within his mouth for twelve hours. It was Simon’s favourite, for it didn’t go too far down his throat, and once in, it didn’t allow nasty surprises as his inflatable gag did. It merely filled his mouth, blocking his tongue down to prevent him from shouting anything articulate. It kept his jaws slightly open, but it didn’t stretch them to the point of discomfort other techniques did.

“As I’m taking you out, you should be prevented from calling out for any help. Not that there is much available around these parts, but a mouth well filled and lips well sealed will prevent you from disturbing the wildlife, or annoy me with any complaints.”

Simon had been supplied with white tape that sealed his lips; his most elegant and effective half mask, a piece of kid leather -- with “stays” or “underwiring”, an invisible frame of thin metal strips underpinning the maintaining effect of the device over the lower face -- had been put on, clinging tightly to his lower face. Simon had been unable to ask Wilhelm, but it meant that there were some thin strips of metal or bone that framed the half-mask so it would cup the chin, preventing any unwanted opening of the jaws.

At nine o’clock sharp, then, they were on the cottage’s threshold, Simon the prim cub scout bound to his rucksack, hobbled and silenced. A tug on the leash and off they went. They headed towards the back of the yard, where a hidden path started, diving into the thick of the forest. Wilhelm had never met a soul as he’d explored the area over the last few months.

“I’ve decided to do without a mask or a cape, this time, Simon. It is highly unlikely we meet anyone on our way to the nice spot I’ve chosen for you. And there are plenty of hideouts if I suspected the least presence. The mask works really well; remember the last time, when I managed to take you to church as a grieving widow?”

The faint mmph in reply meant that Simon remembered very well, as he’d been utterly desperate: Wilhelm had never left him one chance to take the upper hand on the situation. He had packed Simon’s mouth with three sets of the escape artist’s blue briefs. The wide white tape locking his jaws and closing his mouth was covered with a flesh-coloured leather mask with holes for his eyes and nostrils. A patch of red-dyed leather cut in the shape of lips was sewn to give the illusion of a mouth. The black veil hanging down from Simon’s black hat hid his face, and it was impossible to tell he was so well gagged underneath. The long cape pulled over his shoulders concealed the intricate bondage that imprisoned his arms behind him.

Wilhelm and Simon had walked briskly through a noisy crowd before entering the church; Wilhelm looked like a perfect gentleman, his arm draped over the shoulders of the “lady” he was accompanying. None of the parishioners had noticed any of the muffled noises Simon managed to feebly make. The bells being tolled when they had accessed the church destroyed any hope of getting his distress across.

He had been whisked away in a small confession booth in a dark recess of the aisle; a few restraints for his legs, some more to prevent any motion or kick against the wooden shelter’s walls, and Wilhelm had stealthily exited to go and have a seat. “You’ll be able to listen to the service undisturbed, my sweet one. Think of your sins and repent!” As he closed the door, the faint mmph in protest was totally drowned out; Wilhelm beamed with pride at the ingenuity of the setup he’d designed. The confession booth being virtually sound-proof, Simon could try to yell all he wanted.

He had come to pick his captive up after the service, once everyone was gone; Simon was taken out from a reverie that had him trussed to a chair by unsavoury hoodlums as Wilhelm eventually unlocked the door of the stall. He had released his legs, only to hobble him. He had adjusted his cape and took him out of his cubby hole, still holding him in a most considerate manner for anyone looking at them from the outside, not knowing the cape hid arms roped to a bust, or that the veiled face was this of a thoroughly gagged young man.

They had taken a short walk throughout the busy crowds of the Sunday market, with no one the wiser as to Simon’s utter distress. The effective plug filling his mouth and the deceiving dress-up did not allow him to get anyone to have the faintest clue as to what was going on. On that Sunday, Wilhelm brought him back to the cottage without being worried of anybody finding out about his keeping a captive teenage boy in his household.

As he followed Wilhelm obediently, Simon was wondering what today would be all about. If he’d learned a thing over the last few months, it was that Wilhelm managed to surprise him on a daily basis. He let his mind wander, thinking of Wilhelm actually delivering him to a pack of cub scouts. He could pictures many different scenarios at the hands of the scouts, but Wilhelm’s blabber took him out from his reverie as the path started going slightly down.

“You’re right, Simon,” Wilhelm said, looking over his shoulder in reply to a grunt from Simon. This sound had nothing to do with Wilhelm’s narrative, Simon had reacted to the image he had created in his mind, this of a cub scout showing him the inside of his tent which rivalled with Wilhelm’s cottage for the amount of clothing and tie-up stuff. Simon started paying attention to what Wilhelm was saying.

“Cub scouts are usually a pain in the neck. Once, when I was on the run from the asylum, I’d found a fine hunting lodge in the woods where I could lay low for a while. I’d been there three or four days; I came back from getting wood one morning, and wouldn’t you know it, there were two cub scouts inside. They didn’t feel embarrassed at all, asking me all sorts of questions and threatening to call the police and all. I had a hard time getting both of them trussed up; one of them boys almost managed to escape. I finally got them, but it had been a close call. They kept on groaning and overall annoying me all afternoon, as I was getting prepared to leave. Even when I tied them to trees outside the nearby manor so someone would find them before they’d suffer from thirst or hunger, they kept on insulting me through the five hankies crammed in their mouths.”

Simon wondered whether it was five hankies for both or five each. He’d have bet on the latter.

Wilhelm could tell of his kidnapping feats for hours. Simon was now used to these tales, some of them being repeated more often than others. Details varied, and the more time went, the more Simon grew engrossed in Wilhelm’s tales.

Simon followed Wilhelm, all ears, and all eyes too, as he noticed how his captor’s buttocks tested the boundaries of his leather shorts. Wilhelm spent lots of time tailoring clothes and accessories for Simon, the finely crafted leather shorts he wore on that day were his first piece Simon saw him make for himself. They looked good; the thin, supple material clung to Wilhelm’s skin; the flesh in motion underneath the gleaming layer created reflections that hypnotized Simon. He started picturing the cub scouts he’d be prisoner of; it didn’t lower his excitement level.

The underwear and shorts he wore didn’t help to calm him down. His underwear was made of a pair of silk bloomers; a hole had been cut in front to accommodate his member and the foot of a silk stocking had been sewn to the hole, so there was a protuberance that would allow Simon’s now close to adulthood penis to expand. The shorts’ front was also wide. Though the flannel clung tight to Simon’s midsection, the triangular front was also very ample. The satin lining brushing against his stocking-covered sex provided intense stimulation as he moved around.

“Control yourself, Simon, we don’t want a messy accident today, do we?” Wilhelm had taunted as he’d fastened the belt of the shorts once everything underneath was well sorted out.

After half an hour of small steps, listening to Wilhelm’s peculiar fancies and having vivid pictures of a youthful gang of kidnappers having caught Simon, the planned destination was reached.

The quarry was a large clearing, with a path coming from the woods, where Wilhelm and his cub scout emerged. There might have been a road before, but it was gone. No vehicles could come, which had been one of the reasons for Wilhelm’s choice. To hone his kidnapping skills, he needed challenges; he still had to make sure he’d win the challenge, a failure meaning very dire consequences for him.

He pulled Simon behind him, and they moved further towards the cliff, a hundred yards away from them, following the edge. Thirty yards along, Wilhelm turned right, towards the woods again. Once they’d gone beyond the underbrush, Simon spotted straight away their destination.

A young poplar tree stood there, the ground cleared ten yards around.

“I did some gardening last week; I needed a clean playground for today’s game. Let’s play!”

Not explaining further, Wilhelm set to work. The tricky part was removing Simon’s rucksack and not letting him use his hands for too long, but thanks to his faithful leathers cuffs, and the steel handcuffs at hand in case of need, it went smoothly. From there, Wilhelm launched into the pole/ tree tie routine, which he could perform almost with eyes closed by now.

Loops of rope around the limbs were four turns, all at the end of a limb or a joint, keeping them linked to the tree.

The long rope folded in two, its middle cinching the ankles rope, was threaded carefully upwards, tightening the other turns and pulling them against the tree. This was a classic for Simon; it was how he’d been left by Stilo the first time he’d met Wilhelm, and it was the way Wilhelm had then stored him away in the garden shed, trussed up standing against a rake. He didn’t wriggle around too much; if Wilhelm intended to have him try and escape, he’d better not signal where Wilhelm had possibly left a rope loose.

“You wear this rope very smartly,” Wilhelm snarled, “let me get done with your head and I can be on my way.”

A foam rubber ring was first stuck between his head and the tree trunk. It looked like a big doughnut; it wasn’t edible, as it was made of dense foam rubber. With the back of the captive’s head resting on this soft rim, pressure would be spread a bit more and, just like an eggcup, it would wedge his head. Wilhelm fixed the foam rubber shape to the trunk with the two brown ribbons attached to it.

“This comes from a pet shop. It’s a toy for dogs, but I find it convenient to protect your skull from painful contact with the tree bark. Now, for more immobilization…”

Wilhelm took out a roll of 80-pound linen fishing line. At the very top of the cap, a very small and almost invisible wire ring emerged from the button, where the four parts met at the top of the skull. Wilhelm threaded a piece of fishing line in it, and tied its end with a square knot, leaving a good length flowing down. He then pulled the other end and threaded it to staples planted into the tree one foot above Simon’s head; he’d it had been one of his duties when he’d prepared the place. He threaded it back in the small hook on the cap’s button, and repeated this twice, before he tied both ends to the staples on the tree.

The fishing line was thin and transparent, but the three turns, tightened one after the other, were a formidable way to link the cap to the trunk sturdily. The cap had some padding, and Simon understood it wasn’t just for show.

Wilhelm added a similar line to the cap’s button ring; the staples it was attached to were planted lower on the trunk. It made a straight angle with the tree, making it impossible to move his head forward or downward.

“This works just as intended, Simon. Your head is stuck to the trunk; the foam ring prevents you from moving your head around almost perfectly but not completely. Don’t worry, I’ll see to it that it actually works.”

Simon could indeed faintly shake his head from left to right; more concealed features on the cap would help to make sure he wouldn’t be able to get any disagreement across with such motion. There were very small hooks sewn on the cap over the temples, and two pairs of staples nailed in the trunk straight behind his ears. He linked the hooks and the staples with three turns of fishing line; he then meticulously tightened each side so there would be equal tension on the right and on the left, until all Simon could do was look straight in front of him, not sideways or down.

“This should be tons of fun,” Wilhelm thought.

Wilhelm removed the cap’s chinstrap. He had a long white cotton scarf he had cut in white sheets; it was more oval than rectangle, and the part that would be over the wearer’s lower face was lined with an oval patch of rubber that had been glued on one side in his middle.

“A white scarf to cover your lower face, it goes better with the rest of the costume.”

A muffled sigh could have meant approval as well as despair. It got only a chuckle from Wilhelm. “Let me dress up your lower face with the colour of purity.”

Wilhelm tied this homemade scarf over his mouth and behind his head, as he intended to conceal the more suspicious half-mask: patent leather didn’t befit an innocent cub scout. The design of this scarf yielded a very satisfactory result; the rubber patch made it cling to Simon’s lower face and prevented an untimely removal even if he could break the pieces of fishing line holding his head against the trunk; it added slightly to the muffling effect. The German teen went behind the tree; he pulled the long lengths knotted over Simon’s neck around the trunk, and he tied them once more, making sure the knot held fast. It added one point to fasten Simon’s head to the tree.

“In case you still could move your head a bit…”

“Mmmm!”

“… All right, you couldn’t. But it’ll look good and it makes me feel good!”

Wilhelm couldn’t be seen by Simon where he stood; he pinned an envelope very casually just underneath the final knot; one small move of the wrist, and the thumbtack held the letter to the trunk without fear of wind. He did this with his developing sleight of hand for these stealthy tricks. He’d had to pick pockets on his worst days; he would have bet his life Simon hadn’t noticed anything.

He got back in front. He made sure the little strip of cotton on the edge of the scarf, free from the rubber glued in its centre, partially covered Simon’s nostrils. He wouldn’t be far away in case of breathing issues, and he knew that this wasn’t any real difficulty for Simon. It did hamper any attempt at sending continuous nasal sounds, as it required more controlled breath. Wilhelm tidied the cap; he tightened the chinstrap again, to tidy up the job. It followed the lower jaws and was one more way to hamper his opening his mouth. He fastened it solidly, before checking the whole scheme had gotten the desired effect.

“Your limbs are solidly united to this fine tree. Your head is also kept tightly against it. Your mouth is completely filled, and you can’t utter an intelligible word. I’m not going to bore you with lengthy instructions this time. I take you for a walk; I tie you to a tree, very well I should say, and I have you gagged so you can’t attract the attention of an unlikely passer-by; now you’ve got four hours to escape. More or less the usual, isn’t it?”

“Mmmpbblllmm…”

“Thanks for the praise, but I’ll be on my way.”

Simon expected more gloating, more taunts; but as his words died out in the wilderness, Wilhelm had disappeared from Simon’s sight.

Being tied on one’s own may be tedious. First the prisoner assessed the rope work. It was close to perfection, and Simon almost merged with the tree he was stood against. He couldn’t speak, his head couldn’t move a fraction of an inch and he had to breathe slowly.

Next, Simon checked on the ropes. There was some give in the right wrist, though, so that by lightly moving his thumb, he could make progress towards releasing the whole wrist. Once he’d determined he’d gotten it right, he repeated the movement; there would be hours before this would yield any result, so he let his wrist manage on automatic pilot as his mind drifted towards other thoughts.

Simon had developed a unique capability never to be bored while bound and gagged. His mind was full of sights, sounds and smells related to his adventures, and he had eventually acknowledged to himself, a few weeks after being made prisoner again by Wilhelm, that he liked being tied up. It dawned on him that he’d been sporting an erection since they’d left; he couldn’t look down, but he could feel his cock straining the thin front pouch of his underwear and rubbing against the satiny lining of the flannel shorts. Simon felt his engorged member was in a horizontal position. His further daydreaming about his Cub Scouts captors didn’t help him to hamper his excitement.

The wait started, Simon standing rigidly against the tree, the minimal motions from his thumb being imperceptible. He was certain no one would come. Wilhelm was no amateur, and the few times he’d been taken outside, his captor had made sure to take him to places he knew and controlled.

Wilhelm was also condemned to immobility, squatting down on a small stool behind a bush. He was a few yards away on Simon’s left. He couldn’t be seen from the path, and he had made a path the week before to escape into the woods. Just in case.

He was satisfied that he’d scheduled the whole operation correctly. A little less than half an hour later, steps could be heard from afar. They were following the path Wilhelm expected.

Simon saw who was coming first. He was genuinely surprised. He’d thought Wilhelm was back, which seemed awfully early for him, but when he saw the huge man, well over six feet and two-hundred pounds, with his red woollen shirt, his tight corduroy shorts and his axe over his shoulder, Simon’s whole world turned upside down. Wilhelm had made a mistake! At last! This was the biggest possible stroke of luck: having someone come to such a secluded part of the woods.

“MMMmmmmphhhhh!”

His own muffled screams sounded like roaring thunder to Simon, but had the passer-by not seen the boy standing against his tree from the edge of the clearing, he most likely wouldn’t have heard him. The gag did its job.

The lumberjack spotted Simon as he was twenty yards away. He stopped dead in his tracks. Even from such a distance, Simon could see his eyes opening wide. He didn’t rush towards him though. He approached slowly, looking around for the person who’d tied the boy to the tree. Once he’d approached enough so Simon could see his features, the captive boy noticed the man was frowning, looking quite puzzled.

Simon couldn’t help but notice how his tented shorts were the object of careful scrutiny. He blushed behind the gag, feeling exposed all of a sudden. He had grown used to strutting around Wilhelm’s cottage with clothing that emphasized his manhood; being visible in such a state to others was deeply embarrassing.

The lumberjack wasn’t over thirty, but the thick eyebrows, the thick brown beard, the rugged face; they all made him look older. He seemed awestruck by his find, and didn’t seem to get over it, certainly pondering over what he should do.

He didn’t seem in a rush to make a decision, and came in closer, taking in the show; bound and gagged posh boys weren’t daily occurrences in his line of work. Obviously, he had to untie him, but he couldn’t help looking Simon up and down, from the silly cap to the shiny Sunday shoes; the bulge in the shorts, the stockings, this was some posh boy playing some silly games as these people were rumoured to do. The prisoner’s passive demeanour intrigued the lumberjack: why would one stay so still if he hadn’t agreed with being bound and gagged?

“Mmmmbbbbllllmm!”

The boy was gagged, with a white scarf tied across his mouth, but he didn’t make noises the lumberjack would have expected in the case of a “real” kidnap. He was now close enough Simon could discern his breath; he didn’t seem to notice any of the limited vocal signals Simon was sending.

He did notice the badges, and as he saw what was drawn on them, the lumberjack just imagined it was a brand of boy scouts specialized into tying each other up. That and the hard-on meant he’d fallen on a case of upper class depravity that these posh people were famous for. There were rumours about a local landlord indulging into this sort of fun that had fascinated the lumberjack. Another thing that he was now sure of was this was no little kid, judging from the apparent size of his cock. He had to be five feet six or seven; the hairless legs and the outfit did make him look like a little boy, but the hard-on was this of a fully developed young man.

“Oh, my, it seems you lads train with ropes and gags. That’s something else…”

Simon’s desperate nasal plea could have been a slightly annoyed reply to the prompt. From behind the bush, Wilhelm didn’t lose a second of the show. The captor looked at his prisoner for a few seconds.

“Is Simon amused or annoyed?” Wilhelm wondered. The bulge tenting his shorts betrayed some appeal for the situation; he’d made sure that Simon would be an obscene display of teenage lust.

As for the man, his face was unreadable. He seemed very interested in Simon’s legs and crotch; was he biting the bait? He spoke for the first time, in a husky, playful voice.

“It seems you’ve gotten into quite a mess, lad. Let me remove your gag so I can hear what you’ve got to say.”

Simon used the millimetre of leeway left by the invisible fishing line threads to try and move his head; he also went into lengthy grateful and muffled thanks. Simon didn’t bother coaxing the man with gagged requests to go faster; he’d better wait patiently. He was trying to find something to say so there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding about his erectile state; nothing came to his mind just yet.

The lumberjack kept pondering over the trussed up figure he’d found in the woods. He was very puzzled by his developing emotions as he was close to the bound and gagged teen. Eventually, he realized the fascinating show had to stop, as he’d just committed to release the boy scout. He went behind the tree to release Simon’s gag.

This was literally a life changer for Simon. Wilhelm had left him on his own, he’d been found, against all odds, and now he was seconds from being released.

The captive cub approved of his saviour’s resolve, uncomplainingly waiting for freedom; nevertheless, instead of hearing the sound of a scarf being unknotted, Simon heard paper being rustled and manipulated. He remained quiet, wondering what was going on.

There was silence for a long, long time. From the man, at least. Simon made a few ‘question marks’, short rising tones to express curiosity, Wilhelm understood better what his talk meant.

The man moved back in front of Simon, a piece of paper and an envelope in his right hand. He had a big grin on his face “So, my lad, it appears you’ve made some of your friends very mad. They didn’t go easy on you, but who lives by the sword, dies by the sword, if I may say.”

This time, Simon just wondered what Wilhelm could have written to have this man gloat over his helplessness. He kept making little inquisitive noises; from Wilhelm’s point of view, at no time had Simon actually looked or sounded like he was signalling distress, and his current cooing didn’t betray any emergency.

The lumberjack was trying to piece together the text he’d just read, the overgrown cub scout in his specific costume; all this had him really wonder hard what he should do.

Looking at the man’s hands, Simon saw the envelope. The written side was visible, with letters printed in red ink: “Important: DO NOT FREE SIMON BEFORE READING THIS!”

“Let’s see,” the man said, “I’d better read this aloud; you seem all surprised that I don’t free you. You shouldn’t be, considering what your friends have written.”

Simon grunted, loudly from his point of view, but to Wilhelm’s delight, a few yards away with a perfect angle on Simon’s face, this didn’t sound anything like a call for help. He pricked up his ears, listening proudly to his prose the lumberjack read.

“To whoever finds this. Please do not free Simon; he’s undergoing a fair and well-deserved punishment for not following the pack’s rules. He’s left the youngest member of the pack tied to a tree, without supervision AND gagged in a game of capture the flag. When his mistake was discussed in a Pack Council, he denied doing anything reckless, claiming he could stay up to twelve hours tied up and gagged as poor little Freddy was.

We’ve decided to take him to his word, so he’s staying tied to his tree from eight his morning until this evening. If he’s freed before then, he’ll have to start the punishment over another day anyway. Please do not warn anyone, we’ll come and pick him up this evening. And don’t feel bad about him; he’s used to being bound and gagged, and he doesn’t have an ounce of mercy when he comes to tying others. Little Freddy can testify to this.

Signed: Alistair, Alan & Andrew – The three As!”

It was a heavy turmoil in Simon’s head; being bound and gagged excited him, he could hardly deny it. Worse yet, it seemed that the mere idea of being the centre of Wilhelm’s devious plot had the very same effect. His inflating shorts proved it significantly.

He’d noticed earlier that the shorts and the underwear that he’d been put in this morning left ample room for his penis to grow. He realized that he’d been growing further since the man had approached, and that Wilhelm’s devious letter trick enhanced his desire.

“Oh, boy, this man is bound to find out about how I feel about being Wilhelm’s captive. What will he think, with this letter telling I love this?”

Wilhelm had picked up on the situation, and was positively beaming with his plan working smoothly. He knew the man would move on to the next phase soon. He didn’t think there would be any other lumberjack passing by today: this one would have to act as Wilhelm had planned if he wanted his efforts to bear their fruit. Wilhelm smiled looking at the tethered lamb left out for sacrifice. This would be one more great story he could tell Simon over and over to taunt him.

The man wasn’t leaving. Wilhelm’s lust detector started indicating proper levels of passion, from both Simon and his visitor. The general demeanour of the lumberjack meant his feelings were stirred, and his words soon confirmed Wilhelm’s suspicion.

“So your little three As friends are coming to free you tonight? They got you tied tight, didn’t they? They’ve done so because they know how much you like it, this seems obvious!”

His voice was now raspier, and Wilhelm knew what had seized him. It was the plan. The lumberjack was talking himself into action, heedless of Simon’s plight.

“And they left you here this morning. What should I do now, if I’m not to free you? Maybe I can release you anyway; no one would know, hey? I won’t tell your friends.”

Simon went into an indignant “Mmph”. It was misinterpreted:

“I understand. They would keep their word and do this to you another day anyway; that’s why you want me to leave you here, you want to clear the slate with your friends. I understand, I’m not going to touch this scarf gagging you or the ropes binding you. Maybe I can give you some other type of release, hey?”

He winked. Simon’s toned down pleas continued to no end. This man was in raptures over his bound and gagged form. He was getting closer to Simon, pointing out his aroused state.

“You definitely don’t want them to come and free you? Judging from the bulge in your shorts, it’s obvious you enjoy the ordeal they’ve put you through. I think I can really help you though, I’ve had some experience handling cases like you living in log cabins and being the young one for years.”

It was getting explicit. He still hesitated between Simon’s fleshy thighs and his boner-filled shorts; he felt like stroking them with his huge hand but didn’t know where to start. He then made up his mind in a flash.

The lumberjack dropped to his knees in front of Simon. His hands were surprisingly gentle as they removed his shorts’ button and zipper before moving the flaps apart. This left room for the member to develop and stretch further up and out; the big silk pouch made from a stocking’s foot sewn in front had room for well-sized cocks, and Simon’s needed the space.

The lumberjack didn’t bother with removing the sheath. Simon, still unable to look down, had to rely on his sense of touch to track what was happening. A pair of lips grabbed the very tip of his silk-covered cock. The tip of the man’s tongue touched Simon’s slit. Little by little, the lips moved further down the shaft; the man didn’t have time to finish what he’d planned, which was to take Simon’s whole length in his mouth, which his years in manly company had taught him. He’d barely gone down one third when he felt the vibrations announcing the coming earthquake.

Wilhelm was possibly the only person who could have told Simon was having an orgasm from his demeanour. He got the subtle moves and shakes other people would have missed. His boy was now coming down, but the lumberjack kept at it, his head still locked to the bound boy’s crotch. Little by little, he pulled back. Wilhelm approved of the hygiene concern the man voiced once his mouth was no longer full.

“This was release. And I’ve cleaned up your vigorous rod well.”

He pulled the sleeve of his shirt, and pressed it against the silk pouch, mopping the remaining saliva and sperm.

“It’s much softer; you needed this badly, boy. Let me get it tucked underneath the flannel again.”

He delicately zipped and buttoned the shorts again. Simon looked decent at last. Wilhelm triumphed. He’d thought Simon would have gotten a hand job; the lumberjack’s proclivities were a welcome surprise. Now, Wilhelm’s watching could come in handy; if he were right, the man would want to satisfy his own urges. Wilhelm had to act promptly; he didn’t want his prisoner to be snatched away by this lecherous man.

Keeping down on all fours, he crawled through the underbrush and shuffled towards the path. He stood up, unseen from the lumberjack, but not from Simon, who’d gone into another attempt at shouting; he saw Wilhelm, and even from this distance, Wilhelm felt a pang of either guilt or jealousy, or a mix of both, as Simon’s wide eyes did express his need for help. Far away enough, Wilhelm started running to rescue the prisoner at his torture pole. The lumberjack had plans for Simon indeed; he was back on his feet and beheld the fine piece of meat he’d found packaged in the woods.

“Yes, boy scout, I think I could keep you in the shack over there, and we could have fun together; it seems you’re already happy to see me again! Let me see how I could untie you.”

This was something Simon’s captor didn’t want to happen. Wilhelm made his appearance even more dramatic by shaking foliage around to make noise as he got a few yards away from the two antagonists.

“What’s going on?” panted Wilhelm, getting his breath back as if he’d run for miles.

The man stopped dead in his tracks: someone was behind him, he was half a foot away from a bound boy he’d pleasured with his mouth; he had a glimpse of how he facts could be misinterpreted. He also realized that once the boy would have his gag removed, he would be able to reveal what he’d been done, and… The lumberjack didn’t really fancy witnessing how it would go from there. A thought ran through his mind as he spun on his heel to see who was coming: “The posh boy wanted it very badly, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The man stood with his mouth slightly gaping, taken aback; for the second time in less than an hour, the lumberjack got confronted with a very unusual display, this one even more maybe, our man having a keen heart for blondes. He took in everything he could about the young man who’d spoken. The newcomer was wearing a white shirt and some very tight and gleaming lederhosen; he had short blond hair, with a cute strand and big blue eyes; he had regular handsome features. This young man exuded an air of authority; he appeared in complete control, which got the lumberjack to remain quiet and wait for what was coming.

The lumberjack didn’t have to worry about being questioned right now. Wilhelm focused his attention on Simon. He looked at him, amused; his words let his audience he wasn’t the least surprised to find the daintily dressed-up scout in such a perilous position.

“Oh, Simon, you really are hopeless, aren’t you? You had to challenge the youngsters again; you’ll never learn that they’ve become real pros at binding you.”

“Mmmh?”

Before the lumberjack could ask a question, Wilhelm went on, having overtaken the clearing with his charismatic presence. He was assessing the rope network that bound Simon to the tree.

“Their knots are good, and I think you’re really stuck, this time.” He turned to the man at last, willing to explain him what peculiar jokes his little brother and his friends liked to play upon each other. “Yes, sir, this is Simon. He’s the assistant troop master of Alistair’s my little brother’s cub scouts’ troop. They like to play particular pranks on one another. Simon has bet he could stay tied to the tree all day with them.”

Wilhelm stepped closer, having a look at the ropes that imprisoned Simon. He discretely brushed over Simon’s lower face, making sure the white scarf was still partly obstructing his nostrils, which would keep any attempt at noise moot.

“They did a good job with the gag too, I must say. His head is kept against the pole so he can’t look around. They’ve been into torture pole tie-ups these last few months, and the practice starts showing. See, sir, this is the sort of challenges that they pick in this troop.”

The lumberjack nodded incredulously. It seemed the letter was actually telling the truth. He was facing weird posh boys. Seeing how little it had taken to have the captive boy spurt out his seed, he had to be no stranger to unnatural pleasures.

“From what I was told, Simon was a bit harsh with one the youngest boys during a game; as he didn’t want to acknowledge he was wrong, and since he’d bragged about being able to endure being tied up for a whole day,” he insisted on these last two words, “well, the little tykes had no choice but to capture him and bind him to his tree as he’d boasted he could stand much stricter tie-ups than little Freddy. I don’t think there’s more to explain to the man, Simon. Do you?”

“Mmm…” Simon equivocally stated.

The lumberjack spoke for the first time.

“So that’s why I just found this boy tied to a tree,” he said in a hesitating voice. He picked up the letter he’d dropped on the ground. “His friends had explained the joke in a letter, see?”

Wilhelm took the piece of paper, casting a discreet glance at Simon, whose muffled attempts at warning the man of his actual fate had been rekindled by Wilhelm’s arrival. Disturbingly for Simon, the meek noises he was able to emit coincided with another display of his aroused manhood, which didn’t tell of the real story.

“I’m Alistair’s brother,” Wilhelm repeated pointing to the first signature. “I’ve come to take care of Simon. My brother’s come to the house with his cub friends an hour ago, and I’ve overheard them talking about the punishment they were putting Simon through.”

“Mmmh…”

Wilhelm’s boldness got Simon to moan; it could be despair or delight. His captor went on.

“I’m afraid these kids know no limit. We’d never have been so reckless when I was a cub myself! They relished reliving the good prank they’d pulled on Simon, explaining how serious they had been. They had even designed some special badges for the occasion; it’s quite a good job they did,” he said pointing to Simon’s chest, “ it’s clearer now what Alistair and his friends have been conspiring about this last week or so. I confronted them about what they did to their troop master. I’m used to having them spill the beans easily, which they did. They insisted on Simon’s claims that had gotten him to be their target in the first place. Knowing of Simon’s plight I’ve run over here right away, to make sure nothing happens to him.”

The man saw an opportunity to get out of this sticky situation. This older kid would not undertake any untying right away. So, he had to get as far away as possible before the bound posh kid had his gag removed.

“If you’ve come to make sure nothing happens, that’s fine, I’ll leave you boys on your own. You’re going to free him, aren’t you?”

Simon realized that the opportunity to have someone find out about him being kidnapped was almost over, and his mmphing increased in volume, and he tried every trick in the book to have his mmph carry the message that he ACTUALLY was a prisoner. But to no avail: Wilhelm could notice the difference, he now had some experience, but the lumberjack didn’t pick up on the bound and gagged cub scout’s pleas.

“Eventually I will. But the decision they make at their cub scouts’ council are binding; Simon chose his own punishment, he should undergo most of his sentence. I’ve arranged things with my brother and his friends. They are cleaning up the house and doing my chores while I’ve offered to come check that Simon is doing well. I’ve had them cut his time to half what was planned too, so I’ll free him by noon, I guess.”

“Well, since I see you’re handling this properly,” the lumberjack said, reassured that he had quite a while before the bound cub scout could reveal he had molested him, and very happy the dreamlike episode finished so well for him, “I’ll let you lads have your fun. Do not do anything silly, boys…”

The lumberjack walked backwards, his gaze committing to memory the fleshy pair of trussed up gams and the impressive bulge that had risen again in the shorts . He then turned around and left for good.

Simon sighed. Once again, Wilhelm had managed to get away with keeping the escape artist his powerless captive.

Part 2

“Disappointing, isn’t it, my young prisoner?”

“Mmmmmph!!!!”

“You thought you could pull through this one; do you really think I want you to be taken from me? There is no way. You were trussed up too well; I had gagged you so you couldn’t even hope of getting this fine young man to understand what you were trying to say. Immobilizing your head was the cherry on the top in preventing any communication. I know you must have found the planted letter a clever trick also. It was somehow risky, but I’m a gambler. And I was there for you all along, ready to burst out if your lumberjack friend had felt like actually releasing you.”

“Mmmhmmphmmbbllm!” Simon complained, totally defeated.

“You did enjoy his ministrations, no need to apologize. I saw how you lured the man into pleasing you, you little flirt! You just bought yourself a night in the basement. In the gibbet cage, now that I have adjusted it to your measurements. But we’re still a long time from sunset, and I think I’m going to teach you more about trees that can welcome a bound prisoner. I know you will help me to try them out, no doubt; for now, we can have a little break here. This is a nice, peaceful place.”

The moan from the gagged boy went on.

Wilhelm waved the letter and the envelope.

“This was a good idea; it went fine, and just as I had planned. I think I need to get you to work harder at being a good captive. I’m going to offer you another deal. You’re going to have to demonstrate control before I give you something to eat. Are you willing to prove you can control yourself and be a nice little cub scout?”

“Mmm,” Simon answered, one ‘Mmm’ for yes being the rule when he couldn’t move his head.

“I’ve got another game for you, then. It’s called ‘the Flower and the Butterflies’. It’s fit for a day outdoors. First of all, the flower.”

Simon’s eyes followed his tormentor as he bent down to gather something from his rucksack. At first glance it bore similarities with some of the penis sheaths Wilhelm had tailored for him over the months. Some had a slit at the end so liquid could flow freely; it was a closed sheath this time.

“Isn’t this external layer a wonderful yellow? There are three layers this time, by the way, arranged so that the soft caress is maximal. I think that for this ‘stamen’ part, I’ve crafted something that fits your measurements. This is some flower, with one protruding stamen, but we’re not going to be fussy about biology. I’m sure that the shade of the satin petals ravishes you; a deep blue, bordering on purple, and just look at how thick and smooth the material I cut them in is!”

Simon was in awe of Wilhelm’s art.

“Who says flower says stem. Let’s find the stem, let’s see… I’d say they like damp places, where can there be one?”

He was obviously referring to the dark patch where the tip of his erect member kept the cloth the most inflated. Kneeling, Wilhelm pulled Simon’s zipper down. The silk stocking beneath was pushed forward through the opening. Fumbling inside, Wilhelm caught the waistband and pulled it down; once released from the silky underwear, Simon’s six and a half inches of manhood raised proudly.

“Oh, Simon, you’re walking around showing your willy again. What a naughty boy! Let me cover it…”

Wilhelm slid the sheath over the head and down. He did it swiftly, knowing Simon could burst out in an orgasm in seconds. He pulled a small lace, and wrapped Simon’s balls in one of the petals.

“You’re not allowed to let it fall.”

Simon hummed loudly. Wilhelm inspected the gagging apparatus, and saw the fishing line held fast. He undid the scarf, only to tighten it further. “No need for moving your little head around. No need to disturb the wildlife either. Talking of which, let me introduce to you the butterflies.”

He got yet another mysterious homemade object. Wilhelm had cut a thin switch made of hazel. It was just under two feet, quite thin and flexible. At its tips, he’d tied some thirty or forty butterflies. They were just pieces of fishing line of varying length, from a few inches to a foot, with a little bowtie made in silk tied at the end. There were many colours. With a quick flick of the wrist, Wilhelm got the pieces of material to come to life. By moving his arm, he gave the impression of a cloud of butterflies flying around.

“This is a control test, Simon, to see if you can resist the attack of the butterflies; I’ll set the timer at sixty seconds from the moment I say start. But before we get going, I’d better tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was a very naughty cub scout called Simon. He’d tormented his little friends; what he liked best was to kidnap them and to take them to his hut in the woods, where he would bind them to chairs or beams; he was very fond of gagging them too, stuffing their mouths with all sorts of nasty stuff.”

Wilhelm looked at the effect his tale was producing. He had planned on some silly fairy tale with the King of the Butterflies, but he knew this story would be much more effective. The yellow stamen was turgid; could it become even more so?

“But one day, this evil Simon got caught by three friends who decided it was time he would get a taste of his own medicine. They lured him into the woods. Simon, not being too bright, agreed, and wouldn’t you know it, he’d hardly set foot into the forest that he was trussed to a tree. He couldn’t make a sound, he couldn’t move at all. They’d left him there so he could ponder over improving and becoming kinder, but soon, a lumberjack found Simon tied to his tree. START!”

Without interrupting his tale, Wilhelm had given life to the ‘butterflies’, setting them in motion with a jerky hand, and had them come closer to the flower. Tens of small pieces of satin and silk were now brushing over the sheath that his penis was stretching considerably.

“The lumberjack decided he would take Simon to his little house in the woods, where he would have fun in all sorts of ways. It is so much fun to fondle a bound and gagged boy’s butt…”

The spasms Simon went through echoed those of his whole body. His wail, some intense bellowing, was strong.

“Golly, Simon, you’re not getting any better. That’s barely five seconds!’

“Mmmm…”

His cock was deflating slightly, the end having been flooded, with some liquid already coming through to form a drop. Wilhelm looked miffed.

“All that work for this? I’ll give you another chance, so I get to improve on my puppeteer skills.”

Wilhelm got two other ‘flowers’ from his bag. One was red, the other was green. He laid them down over a patch of thick grass. Turning towards Simon’s wrapped member, he grabbed the ‘petals’ and pulled upwards cautiously. As he removed the silk sheath, he wiped Simon’s cock; he took his time once he’d reached the tip and collected all the liquid that had erupted from the ‘stamen’.

Once he’d thoroughly cleaned Simon’s sex, Wilhelm put the tainted sheath down and picked up the red one. He caressed the underside of Simon’s penis with the tip of his index finger. He tested out a story where Simon was released by boy scouts. Boy scouts worked better than lumberjacks when it came to arousing Simon.

“The lumberjack leaves this naughty Simon bound to a tree, so wild animals may have a go at it too. But it’s not a wolf or a tiger Simon sees coming. It’s three Cub Scouts, with a big grin on their faces. They release him from the tree, only to bind him in lots of rope and put him in a hogtie on the little cart they pull along.”

Wilhelm took his time, went for another ‘start!’, a flick of his wrist bringing the butterflies to life; it took fifty seconds of the silky caresses and of Wilhelm’s nasty story before he was shaking like a leaf and filling the second cock sheath with his seed again.

A third try could be attempted once the ‘flower’ had been changed. The story went on, with Simon staked out on the ground, and having the three younger boys sit on him and tease him with taunts and various ordeals. This time, Simon almost went beyond a minute.

“Tsk, tsk, Simon, you’re really hopeless. Fifty-eight seconds! You lose again. I guess I’ll let you rest a few minutes before lunch.”

Once he’d checked Simon was still properly restrained, his captor took his now empty rucksack and went to get the stuff he’d left a few feet away.

“Time for lunch,” Wilhelm cheered.

“Mmmph,” Simon approved.

His head was freed, the pieces of fishing line being swiftly cut with a knife. Wilhelm then removed the scarf and the half-mask. Before he removed the tape sealing his lips, Wilhelm took a water bottle. With one hand, he peeled off the tape, and presented the palm of his hand; Simon opened his mouth wide and after a little pushing with his tongue, the big block of rubber-covered casting plopped out and dropped into Wilhelm’s hands, with threads of saliva dribbling down.

Wilhelm didn’t wait to give Simon a drink, as the bottle was brought to his lips almost simultaneously. He didn’t tip the bottle too much, so Simon could take his time drinking. Once Simon had swallowed the water, Wilhelm clamped his left hand over the empty mouth.

“You’ve proved how little self-control you have. This tells me I have more work to do with you before you become perfectly obedient. For instance, let me pick you some nice dessert.”

Simon’s mouth was uncovered, but trying to call out for help was more likely to attract further punishment than help. It didn’t last long, Wilhelm having rushed to gather the three ‘flowers’ Simon had soaked with his seed. He took his time to pack them in his young prisoner’s mouth, filling every nook and cranny. The half-mask was added, ensuring Simon would keep chewing on the sperm-coated sheaths for a while.

The white scarf with the big oval rubber patch glued inside was plastered over Simon’s lower face to reinforce the set-up; it was tightly knotted at the nape of his neck, the ends being made into a flourishing bow rather than being tied to the trunk.

“Hmmmm!”

“I’d love to keep you trussed up to your tree, but I don’t think it’s very safe to stay here too long; I’d bet high on this man having left not to return, but let us not take any risk. And as good boy scouts, we will leave no sign of our coming.”

The process Wilhelm had followed one hour before was performed in reverse. It only took ten minutes before Simon could walk again: his rucksack was over his shoulders, his limbs were restrained; his gag had been left untouched, but for the big bow over his neck to prevent the long ends of the cotton bandage to trail on the ground.

“This is very cute. I wouldn’t want such a cute little cub scout to be abandoned, and I can think of tons of scout games that will be both entertaining and educational for such a pretty little poppet.”

Part 3

The little duo went on exploring the woods around the cottage Wilhelm kept Simon captive in. Simon sported a fancy cub scout uniform, his rucksack was a restraint for his arms and Wilhelm had kept him gagged with a huge shape of plaster filling his mouth and elaborate headgear to look like a rather prissy cub scout.

After ten minutes of walking in silence, Simon was completely lost. His captor had gotten to know the woods like the back of his hand; he had no choice but trust him for direction. He could also trust him to have something more in store. The hypnotic rhythm of Wilhelm’s pace soon had him drift away in his fantasy world again; he was at the hands of boy scouts again, and the one who was towering over him as he’d had his limbs staked to the ground started taunting him. Then it was Wilhelm as a boy scout telling him about an initiation, and wondering if he can get a badge for knot tying.

The spell was broken when the muscular buttocks stopped rolling under the thin layer of calfskin. They’d arrived at the planned destination. Time to find out what Wilhelm’s wickedly playful mind had cooked up.

Wilhelm bent down to tighten the knee hobble.

“You don’t need to walk around while I explain the rules. I thought we could play a typical cub scout game. So I’ve organized a scavenger hunt for you. I need to equip you with a collecting tool first.”

“A scavenger collects rubbish. A scavenger is also an animal who feeds on carrion. I like this definition better. Since I don’t have carrion around and don’t feel much like finding those that lie in these woods, I have replaced rotting flesh with the smelliest equivalent I could think of. You’re going to gather dirty laundry.”

Simon’s eyes opened wide.

“Yes, you now realize why you didn’t have laundry duty last Thursday. As I was saying, the collecting tool. I didn’t have to think too long to come up with an idea. For a cub, he should use his snout to find the treasures I leave him.”

The “snout” came up in Wilhelm’s hands. It was a triangular brown leather shape, with two big nostrils cut in the part that was below the nose, and a small hook sewn to it at the tip of the nose. The hook was round, with its end bent outside. Once this ‘snout’ had been put over Simon’s nose, the two grey laces attached to its sides were knotted behind his head. Wilhelm tested the set-up; it held fast. None of the items weighed much anyway.

“So, it’s a very basic game. See the area in front of us? The playing field is all the way to this fallen tree over there on the left, and the big boulder, the lighter one, over there on the right. And the path back behind? These are the limits. I’m first going to blindfold you while I go set up the messages and the items to collect. I will leave five notes to be found in the perimeter, giving indications to find the clothing items. They won’t be particularly concealed. They all have a D-ring clipped on so you can pick them up with this fine snout of yours. Once you find a piece of clothing, you have to bring it back here and put it in one of two piles: my clothes and yours. You’ll have to use your nose too, for you might not have been aware, but I’ve worn some of your underwear last week. The ‘snout’ has been thought with such a mission in mind.”

Simon’s mind was reeling with the dullness and the complexity of the planned activity. Wilhelm had him sit on a log, swiftly tying up his ankles with a few turns of white rope. Jumping behind, he leaned over Simon’s shoulder and reached for the gold and blue silk triangle; he removed the leather ring, which he put in his pocket, and unfolded the scarf, only to fold it again into a thick 2-inch strip of silk. It was placed across his eyes, and as he gradually tightened it, Wilhelm whispered, “I won’t be long, just relax for a few minutes.”

That’s just how our young escape artist did, sitting on the log while he could hear Wilhelm running around. After ten or fifteen minutes trying to guess where Wilhelm actually was, he could smell his captor at his sides again. The blindfold was lifted, and one of its end stuck at the back of his shorts.

“A little bunny tail, hey?” Wilhelm smiled. “Before I give you the start, I’ll set the stakes. Not getting the dirty old man to free you has gotten you to face a night in the gibbet cage. You know me, inflicting such a lengthy and strenuous treatment hurts me more than it hurts you. I’ll be kind, once again, and make you an offer. This game is well within your grasp. There’s no trick, a little stamina and attention should allow you to win. If you win, then I’ll cut the sentence in half, and you’ll spend only two hours in the gibbet cage after dinner. In the unlikely case you lose, you won’t get out from the cage until noon tomorrow. You’ve got one hour to fulfil your mission. Have fun.”

Simon moaned. He wasn’t actually expected to agree with the offer. Wilhelm only made offers he couldn’t refuse anyway… He got to his feet, his ankles freed, and he got searching. Before he even found one of the clues, he spotted a woollen sock hung in a bush at chest level. He came close to it, the heavy load behind his back forcing him to move cautiously. He moved his neck until he’d gotten the hook of his snout through the ring Wilhelm had clipped at the toes of the sock solidly.

Once he had a good grasp of the smelly garment (definitely Wilhelm’s, Simon couldn’t mistake the smell), he tip-toed back to the “base”, where Wilhelm, sitting on the freed log had laid two big silk scarves on the ground. “My stuff goes on the left, on the red scarf, yours on the blue one.”

Simon came forward. He slowly kneeled, and let the sock drop; he had to shake his head a little, but the sock landed right in the middle of the red scarf.

“Good job, but there are more items to gather, so don’t lose any time.”

Simon went back to exploring the area in search of clues, socks and underwear.

He found one of the clues a few yards away from where the sock was. A note card was pinned to a tree. “Simon briefs grow on a holly bush.” He searched, and spotted the holly. There were two pairs of briefs in them, and he picked them up delicately with the tip of his little hook. He was glad he’d kept his balance and not landed head first in the thorny bush. The four minutes it took him to get back to base allowed him to enjoy his briefs smell. The clips were all fixed so the smelliest part of the garment would be just under the holes cut in the leather, and he breathed in his own briefs smells, which he didn’t mind this much. He shook his head merrily to drop the dirty underwear on his pile.

Simon got into the groove, but it wasn’t much fun. He spotted the “trick” items easily, some black nylon undies that he wore but that smelled of Wilhelm. One of the penis sheaths, too, could be his but had obviously been worn and soiled by his captor too.

The clues were not very useful, since the items weren’t really purloined; one of them stated that there were twenty-two items, which meant he would be done once he’d have brought a last sock, actually one of his he’d kept on for four days as he’d been kept in the hidden cellar ten days previous. It was hanging from a branch at face level; the most difficult part of the task was to stand the strong smell his feet had developed in the ankle boots Wilhelm had him wear most days since he’d arrived.

As he was fiddling around trying, and eventually succeeding in, picking up the cheesy sock with his snout, he noticed something he hadn’t noticed before. As he’d gone on his ‘scavenger hunt’, he’d noticed why Wilhelm had chosen this location as a playing field. There was a ditch surrounding two-thirds of the location, and thick underbrush blocked the way over the rest of the area that had been indicated. There was nowhere to escape. But… In this underbrush, ten feet away from where Simon’s stock hung, there seemed to be a way between two trees, leading outside the perimeter that he was supposed to stay in. Looking behind, he couldn’t see Simon sitting on his log. If he made up his mind, it had to be now.

He boldly stepped forward; he slipped between the trees; he was rewarded by the sight of a well-drawn path. He rejoiced, for this could make it easier to walk without stepping on a twig or breaking a branch. Right now, still preceded by his sock just in front of his face, spreading its rank fragrances an inch from his nostrils, he moved forward very cautiously, not wanting to make a noise. The path twisted around a bit, but he followed it anyway, casting frequent glances over his shoulder to see if Wilhelm had noticed he’d escaped and had gone after him. Step by step, little by little, he was making a successful escape.

“I have covered enough ground to have put some distance between Wilhelm and me. I should run now…”

His knees being hobbled with a chain a little over a foot between them, he could not really be considered running; but compared to his common immobility since he was with Wilhelm, he was breaking speed records. His lengthened steps slowly got him to realize that he could actually get free if he managed to find his way back to more crowded parts.

A hand grabbing his shoulder had any hope for freedom vanish instantly.

“Where were you, Simon? I’ve been waiting for you!”

As he looked around, Simon saw he was at the ‘base’. The winding path he’d found had taken him straight back to Wilhelm.

“Go and get this last sock over your pile…”

Simon did.

“Oh, shucks, Simon! I’m sorry, but you’re two minutes late. I can’t rule you the winner. It’s really too bad…”

“Mmmmphmmbbblll!!”

“No reason to get rude, I’m not the one who lost. It’s high time for lunch, let me make you comfortable so I can feed this little mouth of yours,” Wilhelm said as he dragged towards a tree. “A beech, not crooked, and look, it grows its own ropes!”

Eight ropes encircled the trunk; a clove hitch in the middle tied them to the trunk; the ends had been rolled and tied together so they wouldn’t get tangled. The prisoner was slightly more reluctant than in the morning, so the captor had to be more forceful. And eventually Simon, once rid of his rucksack, got the tree tie treatment.

The escape artist was confused by what was happening to him. He didn’t feel as desperate as he’d been before when being caught again. What had happened earlier on in the day should have made him feel like a helpless victim. Nevertheless, it made him feel like everything was customary. Being under Wilhelm’s supervision was his new normal. He tried to fight this feeling, and meekly writhed around to break free from his restraints.

“Do you really want to escape?” Wilhelm asked as he tightened the ropes. “This is useless, and you know it. I’m going to leave you tied to your tree for a couple hours so you may reflect on what disobedience entails. If you behave, you’ll get a very special hug this evening when I have you back to the lodge.”

As Wilhelm fixed his head to the tree trunk, Simon fantasized on what the hug entailed . His cock grew solid, as his mind drifted off to a strange world where what had happened to him on that day mixed with his most intimate fancies.

The end

Coming next: Keeping the Birds at Bay
Bondwriter
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Post by Bondwriter »

Keeping the Birds at Bay

A Simon and Wilhelm Adventure

Part 1 – Orchard of Opportunities

Spring was slowly turning into a glorious summer. Simon didn’t get to enjoy much of the seasons changing; he’d been snatched from his caravan a few months previous. His old nemesis Wilhelm had hatched a Simon kidnapping plot for years, literally; he’d been intent to ‘acquire’ Simon for three years, ever since he’d met the young escape artist at his younger brother’s birthday party, back in Kansas. Stilo the Magician and his assistant Simon had been hired to perform for the tens of kids who had been invited in the large, expensive estate of Wilhelm’s family.

This had been the first real, long-term kidnapping of Wilhelm’s. The blonde, handsome boy of German descent was in fact obsessed with restraining and silencing boys, and keeping them under his strict supervision for days on end. The magician’s assistant also had an escape artistry number; Wilhelm had requested a demonstration after the show. Stilo was afflicted by a condition that had him go crazy when exposed to cigar smoke. This had been an extraordinary opportunity for Wilhelm. Stilo had had a breakdown while Simon was tightly trussed to a tree, and not with the tricked rope that had to be used for this number to work.

This is how the redheaded escape artist had spent three days and two nights in the teen’s claws. Hidden in a garden shed or in the attic, he’d had a demonstration of first-rate knotting skills. Eventually, Wilhelm’s misdeed had been noticed by his father. A rescue team had found Simon, at the very moment he’d been able to extract himself from a stringent ball-tie: Wilhelm had missed a knot so the young escape artist managed to extract himself from the large game bag Wilhelm had put him in, along with dirty laundry.

They weren’t in Kansas anymore; Wilhelm had been committed to a mental institution, from which he’d escaped after a few months. He had travelled east, getting quaint jobs and running the occasional low-key kidnapping here and there. He’d promised himself never to get caught again, and he always acted with utter care, targeting victims he knew would bring comfortable ransoms for minimum toil.

He was able to board a liner that went from New York to Southampton. A change of continent would diminish the risk of being caught and sent back to the loony bin again. The distance he put between himself and Simon didn’t cause Wilhelm’s obsession with the ginger Houdini to dwindle. Long nights were spent imagining Simon’s body under the constraint of his bonds, and he could hear in his head the droning sound of Simon’s attempts at calling for help, stifled by the mouth packing inside his mouth, his lips well sealed with tape.

When he’d read in papers that Simon would tour Europe, including England, his long-hatched plan had to be enacted. Wilhelm had done odd jobs for tailor, carpenters and leather craftsmen. Having also put his abductor talent to good use, he’d secured enough money to buy a little cottage in a secluded part of the countryside, in the woods, which he’d fitted out with Simon as a permanent guest in mind.

The cellar had been a major reason for his purchase, but he’d made sure he could keep Simon inside the house, so he would be his live-in maid also. He loved binding boys, but using them to be rid of chores had to be attempted, provided he restrained them well enough that all they could do was perform according to his will.

Abducting Simon had gone incredibly smoothly, and the months he had now spent with the fifteen-year-old entertainer had satisfied him beyond all expectations. Having a cute doll to bind and gag was a big thrill, and playing tricks on him was ever renewed fun. While keeping him trussed up most of the time, there were always these nice little intimate moments they shared, when he attended his most basic physiological needs, and it now went a little bit beyond this, with what Wilhelm deemed cuddling. He also loved getting his captive close to people while in tight bondage, getting him to believe he could be freed if he managed to alert them to his plea. Then Simon’s hopes were routinely crushed by the clever ways Wilhelm had to deceive.

Having pulled a few pranks that had been resounding successes in his eyes, Wilhelm had been concocting a new one that could be a lot of fun too.

The blonde young man spent some time outside the cottage; he kept a low profile, but he had to buy supplies, and he still was on the lookout for kidnapping opportunities. Trying to get a ransom for a local boy had to be done very cautiously, considering he was also a local now. Gathering information discreetly in pubs or at stores occupied him quite a bit.

A couple weeks earlier, as he was running errands, Wilhelm noticed scarecrows had been set up in a cherry tree orchard. As the cherries would ripen soon, they had to be protected from birds once they’d reach maturity. Three ten-foot high posts had been planted in the ground, with rather refined mannequins hung from the top; a horizontal bar was acting as spread arms, and they wore clothes that flapped in the wind.

There was a hedge, four to five feet high, and the scarecrows were ten yards away from the road at the most. Wilhelm passed his way, but the following day he made a detour when he came back from the store to assess if having Simon pose as one of the scarecrows could be done. He had obtained a crucial piece of information that made him want to pull his prank quite soon; there was a cross-country race on Saturday, ten days in the future. It was a traditional local event that had to do with some religious occasion; Wilhelm had been aware of it, as he was of all local festivities, so it was easier to blend in; he couldn’t believe it when he looked at the posted announcement in the post-office. The loop the racers had to run on passed on the very road from which he’d seen the scarecrows.

Wilhelm checked cautiously no one was near when he got to the orchard. He opened the gate and went to see one of the scarecrows from up close. The posts had been embedded in blocks of concrete, so they had maximum stability. There was a large hook planted on top of the posts to thread the rope that held the mannequins dangling down.

This was enough information for Wilhelm. His little plan could work with minimal effort, at least on the construction side. He had to time the event properly, and prepare one of his twists, quite well-known from Simon, that would make the whole endeavour worth the young abductor’s efforts.

Wilhelm had planned for five days. He had concealed some building material in the hawthorn hedge, on the orchard’s side. The farmer who owned it was rather old and didn’t have much help, so he felt quite sure no one would find them before he’d need them.

In the cottage, Wilhelm acted as casually as possible. He even relaxed the stringent discipline Simon was submitted to. The ginger was now a young man, and his habit of wearing skimpy briefs enabled Wilhelm to see how he physically displayed his taste for Wilhelm’s ministrations. This was one more weapon Wilhelm used; by now, Simon knew that obedience could yield some intimate caresses that got him hard as a rock until he spilled his juice.

The three days leading to the weekend were mild. Simon spent only three hours in the gibbet cage and eight bound to a post total. He was shackled to do chores most of the time. Truth be told, despite the humiliation at being treated as a servant, his domestic activities were usually a relief, both for body and mind.

He relished, to his utter shame, having to sexually service Wilhelm. He was made to kneel in front of his kidnapper, hands cuffed in front, and he had to pleasure him with his fingers. Sometimes Simon fantasized he would have his gag removed and he would be made to use his tongue, but Wilhelm remained inflexible on keeping him muzzled at all times.

On that Saturday morning, Simon was hogtied in Wilhelm’s bed. This had happened before, though it wasn’t this common; Simon had also been fondled and milked three times, which wasn’t usual. It was the middle of the night rather than the morning; as Wilhelm released his captive from his hogtie and shackled him, Simon saw it was still dark outside. Under this latitude and at this time of the year, dawn came early. He wondered what this could be about. Wilhelm liked staying in bed late, especially at weekends.

The routine feeding and hygiene activities were quickly performed. Then came the dressing up: this time, it would be minimal. The day was likely to be warm, so Wilhelm decided against too many layers. The skimpy blue silk briefs would be most adapted for his try-out. They were elegant, incredibly shiny so as to really display Simon’s toned body and enhance the round curves of his bum, and make the package in front quite telling of Simon having long ago entered puberty. He then put him in long white stockings that went above the knees, and his black leather shoes. For the walk, he had a black rubber cape that would make them difficult to spot in the dark, that he put on Simon once he’d set a rucksack over his shoulders.

Wilhelm was dressed in a dark tweed suit, and he had a dark hat that concealed his blond, fair hair. Simon knew something was up from the beginning, but having his collar and leash put on definitely meant they were going outside. Simon knew from his church outings to his being left trussed up to a tree to be found by a lecherous lumberjack, that there would be some more of Wilhelm’s shenanigans. Yet, it could also turn into an opportunity for escape. Wilhelm liked danger, and he would be overplaying his hand at some point, this Simon was sure of.

For now though, with his arms tightly bound behind his back, his forearms cruelly pulled against each other by ropes that united them from wrists to elbows, he would have to comply with Wilhelm’s demands.

Protesting was out of the question; his mouth was filled to the brim with a huge ball of silk that had gathered the semen from both young men many, many times. Tape sealed his lips, and a black silk scarf covered his lower face from under his eyes to well below his chin. He couldn’t help but try out how effective this was; once again, no word could be heard.

Once he was ensconced in the strong smelling rain garment, there was no way Simon could only hope to have a try at running away. Wilhelm had a complete mastery of walking his bound captive at the end of a leash, and his expert tugging prevented the boy from straying in the least.

Wilhelm knew the paths over a five-mile radius around the cottage like the back of his hand, and he could evolve in the quasi darkness. Simon followed him obediently. Wilhelm didn’t talk this time, as they had to walk near farms and houses and he didn’t want to be spotted. He kept the necessary amount of tension on the leash to guide his captive through the darkness.

After twenty minutes of this quiet progression, they got at the orchard’s gate. Wilhelm opened it. He had Simon move forward a few yards before he had him stop. He removed the cape and took of the rucksack off Simon’s back once he’d unbuckled the straps passing below Simon’s armpits.; He pulled a few pieces of his favourite white cotton rope to wrap Simon’s legs at knees, ankles and at the top of his thighs. Even with the faintest of glow from the moon and stars, and the very little light coming from the horizon, towards the east, Wilhelm could bind Simon’s legs tightly and without a single flaw in the tightening and the knots.

He stood up and headed to the hole in the hedge where he had carefully concealed his equipment. The closest object was a storm lantern, which he brought along with a large game bag and a pole. He lit up the lantern, turning towards his captive. He wasn’t tired of having a view of the helpless Simon, in nothing but his charming briefs, white socks and black shoes, wrapped in rope and heavily gagged, in a middle of a meadow at night.

“We’re a bit further from any human being here; it’s time you get to know what entertaining plans I have for you.”

“Mmph?”

After all these weeks, Simon still graced Wilhelm with gag talk.

“This little town –that has welcomed me as one of its new citizens– happens to have an annual race this week; it’s a tradition that dates back decades. The race happens to pass on the road we came by. I thought it would be nice if you could see it too. You don’t get much distraction, and being outdoors and getting to see people making efforts could be inspirational for you.”

Simon knew of his keeper’s treachery. He had to brace as he was to find out about some new scheme Wilhelm had in store.

“You’ll have a first class sight from where I am going to put you.”

Wilhelm grabbed a pole and a large bag; he had Simon hop towards the scarecrow that was in the middle. He brought the lantern with him. It cast its flickering flame’s faint light on the straw man hung to his pole.

“I think you’ll make a wonderful scarecrow, my sweet redhead. Rest assured I’ll try my best to have you look like a real scarecrow. Immobility is a key feature of these lifeless beings, so what about you emulating them. By the way, have you ever heard a scarecrow yell to get the birds to go away? You haven’t, have you? If you want to be like them, I need to gag you quite tightly so you’re as silent as these dummies.”

Simon had grown acquainted with Wilhelm’s twisted logic; he always had excellent reasons to bind and gag him tightly. And even when he had no cause to do so, he did it anyway.

“As you and I’ve more or less become pole-tie experts, Simon, we’ll rely on this well-mastered technique. Then I need to add arms, clothing and you will be the genuine thing!”

Part 2 – Pole Position

Simon didn’t see the entire scene quite clearly; he wondered how Wilhelm would get him as high as the mannequin, the feet of which arrived at Simon’s chest level. He soon had the answer to his untold question as Wilhelm fetched a ladder from the pile of things he had left in the hedge. He then pointed to the pole he’d first brought. There were ropes wrapped around it and coiled so as not to intertwine. They were at the strategic places not only to encircle Simon on one side; the ropes all had their shorter twin that would be used to fix the pole to the big scarecrow post. This had been the easiest way Wilhelm had thought he could do this.

“I’ll tie you to this piece of wood and then I’ll haul you up there. Let me start by bringing your new friend down from his observation post. Don’t worry; he won’t be jealous that you take his place…”

Wilhelm set the ladder against the pole and climbed with a knife and a piece of rope in hand. He cut the thin rope that was tied to the hook at the top of the post and the mass of straw crashed to the floor, sending straw flying all over. With Wilhelm busy on his ladder, it could have been an opportunity to escape; but in the dark and with his legs bound as they were, Simon would be caught back quite soon. Wilhelm was down and at his sides even before he’d made a decision, embracing him from behind.

“You were thinking of escaping, little devil, weren’t you? You made a smart choice not to even try. I had my eye on you the whole time, and I had set the penalty for trying at three days inside the gibbet cage.

He then seized the rod with its ropes. He put it behind Simon. The pole tie, whether to the dining room beam or to the stone pillar in the cellar was almost a daily occurrence at the cottage. There was no surprise from Wilhelm’s guest as to what would happen next.

He first untied Simon’s arms, locking his wrists behind his back. Handcuffs weren’t much fun, but they were convenient when you were in a hurry to change your prisoner’s position. He slid the pole between Simon’s arms, having it rest from the back of his head to his ankles. He brought the longest coils of rope forward first, surrounding Simon at familiar heights. All his joints were concerned; once pulled back tightly against the pole, it became much more difficult to twitch and slide out of the bonds.

Wilhelm next reinforced the first turns of rope with more bits linking them; it made it even tighter. While weaving this criss-crossing, he managed to leave the shorter coils that had still not been unfolded accessible. Simon still had his pride, and he noticed that there was a chance to get the ropes around his chest to fall down after working them a little as he had been trained to do.

Wilhelm brought the storm lantern closer, casting a clearer glow over the binding scene; he could almost have done this in the dark, as he kneaded and prodded here and there to feel if everything was fine, not relying much on his sense of sight. He went over the ropes and tightened two of them. The flaw Simon had identified had been corrected.

Wilhelm grabbed Simon from the front in a big hug and lifted him a few feet behind so the pole he had been trussed up to rested against the bigger post that had been rid of his original inhabitant. Picking up the rope dangling from above, he threaded it in a similar hook over the smaller pole. Simon couldn’t quite figure out what was taking place above his head; when all was done and Wilhelm started pulling he understood the general principle even if he couldn’t say much about the details.

Simon’s feet were off the floor as he began his ascension. When his toes were four feet in the air, Wilhelm attached the rope to a hook at the bottom of the scarecrow pole. Wilhelm climbed the ladder to get at Simon’s face level. Dawn had come and shades could be discerned. Wilhelm continued his project by linking closely the two poles and Simon. He laid his hand over the front of the escape artist’s briefs.

“It seems you enjoy being a scarecrow already. Let me make sure you don’t fall.”

The trussing up went on, with Wilhelm using the shorter lengths that had been clove-hitched to the pole to fix it to the bigger post.

Wilhelm jumped to the ground and got an important accessory: Simon’s scarecrow head, which he’d designed himself. It was a big ball made to look like a scarecrow’s stuffed head. There was a large hole cut in front, but a thin layer of muslin was wrapped all around the head; it allowed its wearer to see through the thin material, though obviously it made the sight a bit blurry. Wilhelm showed it to Simon.

“You’re going to look just like a scarecrow. I just wonder if the screen does much for muffling boys trying to call for help, so let me fit you with a better gag.”

He climbed the ladder again, this time with the inflatable rubber pear and the kid leather half mask Simon had worn countless times. These would limit the sounds the gagged boy could produce. It was also part of the challenge. Wilhelm didn’t mind a faint hum to be heard from a few feet away.

Wilhelm fetched the fake head. He had used wire to make the head’s frame. Once he’d slid it over Simon’s skull, the cute ginger’s handsome features were concealed.

“You look great like this, but don’t worry: I like your real face better. At least it’ll protect you from the sun. Now for some clothing, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

He went down again to get a large, old rain coat the same colour as those of the three scarecrows. He passed a long broom handle through the sleeves and went back to his elevated prisoner. The bar went behind the pole at Simon’s shoulders’ height. Once he’d closed the coat in front, it wrapped Simon’s body loosely. Wilhelm had large canvas rectangles that he then used to wrap Simon’s legs in, so it looked just like he was wearing trousers under the coat.

Wilhelm stepped down; he had to wait until it was light enough for him to make another inspection. The bulk of the job had been performed; with Simon, it was always good to check twice; he had ways to wriggle out of bonds that few other humans shared.

In the meantime, he had a rather one-sided conversation with his captive.

“There are eighty people taking part in the race, quite a crowd. Who knows? You could get one of them to see you’re my prisoner. But I highly doubt it. You’re too well gagged. And even if you can get the post to shake a little, they’ll think it’s just the wind blowing in the cherry trees.”

He went on in one of his long conversations with Simon, who didn’t object to what he was told. It had been at least half an hour of the kidnapper’s ramblings when he decided he could see well enough to make his final inspection. Once upon the ladder, Wilhelm went over the whole set of bonds. He even slid a hand under the coat to test Simon’s gag’s effectiveness by twitching his nipples. He had to surprise him to get good results; Simon balked at making much noise, for fear that his gag would be made even heftier if the noise was deemed too loud.

Content with his initial work, Wilhelm stepped down and removed the ladder this time.

“The first passing of runners should be in five to six hours; you have all time to think of a way to have them notice you’re here.”

The wait was long as the sun rose in the sky. It had been a bit chilly, being almost naked under the coat; but soon he was sweating as hours passed and the sunlight relentlessly hit his thick canvas clothing. It had to be mid-morning when he felt sweat trickling down his legs. Simon had once again shifted to ‘total immobility mode’, as he was able to endure the lengthiest and harshest tie-ups thanks to the power of his mind.

Eventually a first group of runners ran by Simon; he saw them coming from afar, blurbs of colour behind the muslin veiling his sight; the small dots grew bigger, now sporting colours and more defined shapes. Simon knew that unless his nose was plugged, he could still make some noise through it. He realized the wind was blowing towards him, as the sight of people approaching got him back to his sense.

The runners passed, by groups of three or four, the sound of steps resounding in the meadow. Yet none of them seemed to have any clue that there was a kidnap victim hidden in plain sight. Simon was at an angle that allowed him to spot them from quite a long distance through the hole in the dummy head. But despite all this observation and careful timing to try to scream at the top of his lungs, Simon saw several groups go by without paying the least attention to him.

Wilhelm had told of eighty runners; soon Simon realized they were doing a loop; he was counting them as they went by, and he was above eighty really soon. The distances between the runners increased as laps went by. At some point, a man stopped in front of the orchard’s gate. Simon could see him tie his shoe laces, crouching down. He gathered as much air as he could in his lungs and yelled all he could. The man seemed startled and turned towards Simon. Simon kept on calling. The man looked in his direction for three seconds; he spun his heel and set in motion again, his steps increasing in speed as they faded away.

There was no other opportunity to try his luck. Simon had stopped counting long ago, and it had to be mid-afternoon when the last of the racers passed in front of him. This was when he heard Wilhelm approaching from behind.

“I came to check on you, Simon, I hope you enjoyed the show? Men freely exercising their bodies, sweating and making big efforts.”

Wilhelm had put the ladder back against the back of the post.

“It seems you’ve been sweating. You might have made efforts too, but then it didn’t pay much…”

Wilhelm lifted the dummy head and hung it to the top of the pole. The leather mask and rubber plug were removed and a canteen was brought to Simon’s lips. This didn’t bode well. Had Wilhelm planned to take him back to the cottage, he wouldn’t have removed his gag. He gulped a quart of lukewarm water from the canteen before Wilhelm took it away.

“Help_ Someone, heeeelpmmmmphmrgmmm…”

“I’m surprised of this little outburst,” Wilhelm said as he shoved the rubber bladder inside Simon’s mouth and pressed on the pump nine times before he removed the nozzle. It started being uncomfortable at seven times. Eight or nine was punishment.

Yet Wilhelm started fondling him through the coat. The effect was immediate.

“The tighter you’re bound, the more cruelly you’re gagged, the harder you get. That’s why I like you, I guess…”

He stopped briefly, to put the dummy head back onto Simon’s.

“This will protect your creamy fair skin from the sun,” he whispered in a tone that was almost friendly. “A last little favour before I let you enjoy the rest of the day here.”

Wilhelm scanned the horizon, to see if anyone was coming; but now the race was over, the traffic was much reduced. Wilhelm seldom met people on that road. The coast was clear. He could unbutton the coat, pull the tails apart to expose Simon’s belly and legs, while pulling down the briefs with his thumbs. Simon’s semi-hard cock hung there, uncertain of its fate.

“As you’re going to be here for a little longer, I’ll let you relieve your bladder. Hurry up, I don’t have all day.”

This wasn’t entirely true, as Wilhelm had stayed very close to Simon the whole time, in case his initial plan had a flaw. Simon knew he had to seize the opportunity; his self-control extended to such matters, and within three seconds a stream of urine was flying down to the meadow’s ground.

“This reminds me of a famous statue there is in Belgium, the Manneken Pis, the little boy who pisses. Except that he’s able to hold his tiny penis, and you aren’t.”

Wilhelm was willing to help out; he reached for Simon’s deflating cock, dripping a few last drops.

“Let me shake it a bit so there’s no pee stain on your high-class underwear.”

The fifth flick of Wilhelm’s wrist caused the penis to straighten up and rise again. In his mind, Wilhelm had bet seven would be needed. He knew he should not underestimate his prisoner…

The hold he had over Simon’s now fully erect cock tightened a little; while keeping an eye on the road to prevent having to handle an unpleasant situation, the pace of Wilhelm’s move increased. He didn’t have his stopwatch, but he was quite certain that it was well under one minute that gobs of semen flew into the wind. The unmistakable wail of Simon reaching orgasm was so deafened by the gag and head gear that Wilhelm himself was extremely aroused. He would save his enthusiasm for the evening, once he’d have Simon back to the cottage.

He pulled the briefs back up, not too worried about the stains this time, as Simon would certainly spend a couple hours prewashing the dainty material with saliva. He buttoned the coat down and stepped down the ladder. He stepped in front of the scarecrow, at a distance where he was certain to be seen.

“I’ll let you fully enjoy this beautiful day, my sweet one. You’ll be more in the shade this afternoon, so you might even enjoy a restful day up your pole.”

He walked away, making sure he was quite well seen exiting the gate. As soon as he was certain Simon could no longer see him, he jumped nimbly over the hawthorn hedge between the road and the orchard, and gained his observation post, fifteen yards to the left of Simon.

Part 3 – Rescue at Hand

There had been much mirth from the teenage kidnapper when he’d found out, three days previous, that not only was there a race in the early afternoon that would pass in front of the orchard. The local festivities also included a scavenger hunt for children at the end of the afternoon; cautious inquiries had yielded the list of items to collect from the previous year, and it included cherry tree leaves, with actual cherries gaining extra points. From the village’s commons where the hunt started, the cherry orchard was the closest place where they could be collected.

The local children did think of the orchard first when they saw the list indeed. John, James and Joseph, all three twelve-years-old, had decided that they would win the hunt; one year ago, they were still little kids and that now that they were older –and wiser– they were certain to win.

The orchard was the second location they’d visit, after old Davison’s sheep farm from where they would get some wool. They had politely asked a farmhand who had quite willingly let them have a handful of raw wool.

For the cherries, it was a bit trickier. Old O’Hara was infamous throughout the county for being a skinflint, and scary stories were told about how he handled the boys he caught scrumping his cherries. John, James and Joseph were polite, but eager to win, and they soon had gotten quite worked up; James’ mother was a nurse, and she went three times a week to care for old O’Hara; from James’ information, the old man was too ill to be looking over his orchard.

There had been discussion of the scarecrows that had been set up; to James, it proved he could no longer do the job himself, to Joseph it was evidence that he cared and that he had goons to do the dirty job. John solved the issue by offering a challenge: James would go in, and if he gathered the five leaves and the five cherries without any trouble, he would pay Joseph a forfeit, and if he got caught or couldn’t get them, he would owe Joe a forfeit. The nature of the forfeit wasn’t discussed, but it was now impossible to back down.

Simon saw them coming from the same point where the runners had appeared. The group was marching briskly, and he soon could see these were boys a few years younger than he was. As these didn’t have a race to run, maybe they would pay more attention to what was going on outside. There was still hope.

He didn’t waste precious breath, and waited until he would hear them at least. He thought the wind had turned slightly; were it the case, there was a chance he would be heard.

The boys were now in front of the fence. Simon tried a first wail, but they kept on chatting among themselves; it seemed two of them were cheering up the other, or challenging him to open the gate and enter. The taunts had the expected stimulating effect on the twelve-years-old; Simon heard the creaking sound of the gate’s hinges.

“Go, James! Go!”

Under his friends’ encouragements, the boy entered, he headed to the closest cherry tree, which was some twenty feet behind Simon. The boy brushed against the post.

“Mmmm… Mmmmm…”

No articulate sounds could be uttered, and it was just a hum. The boy moved on forward to the tree, ignorant of the plea expressed by the helpless boy a few feet above his head. James swiftly jumped to pick the required leaves and cherries, which were a pale pink and a couple weeks away from ripeness. He turned to his friends at the gate, brandishing his trophy with an air of triumph.

“Sorry, Joe, but I think you’ll have to pay a forfeit.”

Simon thought he was paying a particularly heavy one himself; he hoped the boy would not rush to the gate and that he would hear him this time. The two other boys were busy talking to each other, so at least they were not shouting; this would have made it impossible for Simon to be noticed.

“Mmmmm… Mmm… Mmm… Mmm…”

From his hiding place, Wilhelm could barely hear the hum, and he even wondered if he wasn’t imagining it. If the hum wasn’t a figment of his fancy, Simon was trying his old Morse trick, which he kept on trying on people who had no clue of the telegraphers’ language. He had to watch this time; to the kidnapper, a trio of resourceful country boys could be a threat. Adrenalin was kicking in as what happened next was his fantasy becoming reality.

James stopped two feet ahead of the post. He turned towards the scarecrow.

“Good job you did, Mr. Scarecrow, you really protected Stingy O’Hara’s trees quite well, ha! Ha!”

Simon was going on with his calling out; too bad for him, the three boys were resourceful indeed; they were no boy scouts, though. They could tie knots, of course, because they poached rabbits now and then but Morse code wasn’t part of their knowledge.

James stepped closer. This time, he’d heard something. He looked inquisitively at the shapeless form hanging to the pole.

“Come here, mates, it seems our scarecrow makes noise,” he said, turning to his friends.

It was another minute of bickering about who was brave enough, or of James having a tendency to make things up. Meanwhile, Simon didn’t stop, but the variations in volume he managed were too faint that James could even hear this was a noise caused by a human being.

“… Like the time you said these were ghosts in Mrs. Gillingham’s house! We were lucky not to get caught when you got us to hide in her garden shed to check on the house at night.”

“Joe, you owe me a forfeit, and it’ll be to pass the gate and join me.”

This settled the issue, as Joseph thought it was a good way to get rid of this forfeit; James could have him do his chores, as he’d himself required two weeks previous, except that James lived on a farm and his chores were much more demanding than Joe’s.

He entered, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was in sight. John followed.

“I can’t hear anything,” he said as he stood by James.

“Shh… Listen well…”

The three boys stood still; Simon was looking into their eyes, but his immobilized head was veiled, preventing his eyes from being seen. He was having more and more trouble renewing the air in his lungs and emitting noise at the same time. He tensed up, trying to move his head at least a little bit, but the frame covering it was well fixed to the post.

It seemed to last forever. Joseph broke the silence.

“Yes, there’s some sort of noise, like an electrical motor or something. But this could be the wind… We can go now, if we want to win the scavenger hunt.”

“I’ve got to find out,” James replied, “If O’Hara has some trick in store with his scarecrows, we’ve got to know.”

He didn’t leave his acolytes time to object that knowing of O’Hara’s devious ways wouldn’t be of much importance to them. There was a ladder against the post; he could get behind the straw man and see, or hear for himself.

“Mmm… Mmmm… Mmmmm…”

“It hums quite loud, actually,” he was telling his friends when Wilhelm decided to appear, before the boy would enquire further and he’d have a closer look under the layers concealing the bound and gagged Simon.

“What are you doing in Mr. O’Hara’s orchard, boys?”

His voice was firm, but not aggressive, yet the trio was startled.

“I told you this was a dumb idea,” Joseph whispered to James who had frozen, clutching to the ladder strongly.

“Get down from this ladder, boy,” Wilhelm advised more than he ordered, “You don’t want to get injured on other people’s property. They would be the ones who’d be blamed if you did.”

Wilhelm approached as James stepped down and joined his friends. Simon was now frantic, but the three lads had no interest in the mannequin anymore. They watched the young man, clad in an elegant tweed suit; James faintly remembered having seen him at the grocer’s once.

“It seems to me you are from the village. Are you playing the scavenger hunt?”

There was an almost benevolent tone.

“Yes, Sir, we are,” John politely replied, thinking this might go fine after all.

“Then maybe I won’t report you. Let me introduce myself, my name is William and I’m an engineer. I build machines to help farming. I’m part of the team that has installed these state-of-the-art electrical scarecrows.”

James had seen men like this one when the new milking facilities had been installed at his father’s farm.

“Oh, I see, Sir, my father has a farm and…”

Wilhelm interrupted; while he would have loved to have a lengthy discussion just under Simon’s nose, this also increased the risk of the witnesses detecting foul play significantly.

“They’re actually at the experimental stage. They could make lots of money if the experiments turn out well. You must have spoken a bit loud as you entered. You lads have heard of sound waves and radio waves?”

They nodded; they went to school and were not backwards.

“Well, there is a detector in the scarecrow’s head and when it picks some cackling then it starts vibrating to emit a sound that only birds can hear.”

“Like a dog whistle?”

“Yes, this is a similar idea. Now, lads, this is all very hush-hush. So I’ll make you a deal: you get out of here with your leaves and cherries, I won’t tell anyone about you. I know how Mr. O’Hara deals with scrumpers, and all the stories you’ve heard about this are true, I’m afraid. In exchange for my silence, you won’t say a word about this experiment.”

“Of course, Sir,” John eagerly agreed, “I promise I won’t tell a word about your experiment!”

His friends made similar pleas.

“Mmmmmmmmmmm… Mmmmmmmmmm…”

“It seems your voice triggered another reaction from the automaton. This will be our little secret, then. Good luck for the scavenger hunt.”
The boys were happy to oblige. They had what they’d come for, they were safe from trouble, and they now were in the know for super secret agricultural research experiments. They had barely walked fifty yards on the road that they were already planning how to collect the next item and win the scavenger hunt.

Wilhelm climbed back to the ladder, leaning forward to whisper to Simon’s ear.

“You’d have liked being rescued by this young boy, I’m sure. Knowing of the rustic ways these people have, I can’t guarantee that he wouldn’t have taken the opportunity to take him to a barn or a stable and treat you in much more undignified manners than I do.”

“Mbbmmm?”

“Yes, I saved you from an extreme peril, Simon. We should head back home, you never know the dangers we face in this wild environment.”

Wilhelm repeated his actions from the morning, albeit in reverse this time. It went faster this way, and fifteen minutes later Simon was standing in the meadow, bound and gagged under his cape; Wilhelm put the equipment back in the hole in the hedge. He would come and pick it up later on, or actually keep it there so he could repeat his little feat another day.

He linked the leash to the collar he’d put back on Simon and with a soft tug indicated they were off. The walk was uneventful. There was still daylight, but it was dusk: colours and shapes were dimmer, so there was little risk of being seen well enough that any body language Simon could muster could be interpreted correctly by people seen from afar. Wilhelm felt relaxed; he kept his voice low, but he couldn’t help blabbering to Simon about how pleased he was with his scheme.

“It was close this time. I must say this guy who redid his shoe lace got me sweating for five seconds. I really thought he’d heard you. He looked really puzzled. I was glad to see him resume his race. What a great day it was. Thanks for providing me with so much entertainment, my handsome redhead.”

Wilhelm pulled Simon to his right side and wrapped his shoulders with his arm. As they moved along the path, he lowered his hand along Simon’s flank to end on the rubber garment, above Simon’s dick.

“You’ve grown stiff again! Well, you had your turn this afternoon, now you may recover from it for a while. I’ll need you to reciprocate, as I’m getting quite a strong urge to be relieved.”

They soon were back at the cottage, in the main room.

“This is a very special occasion, Simon. I’m proud of the way you behaved. I’m going to grant you a favour, then. You will have your gag removed.”

There was a glint of relief in Simon’s eye.

“Yes, I’d love you to use these soft lips of yours to pleasure me. Your fingers are supple and skilled, but it is time you also learn to have your mouth filled with something else than a gag.”

The captive opened his eyes yet wider; his hope for less stringent bondage was gone, but he’d been thinking of this for a few weeks now, and he was most eager to try.

“No need to release your arms, then,” Wilhelm said; sitting in his armchair, he took Simon by the shoulders and made him kneel between his spread legs.

“You know what sucking cock is like, Simon. You’re going to do just as the nice lumberjack did to you when he found you in the woods.”

He unbuttoned his trousers and opened them, letting some thin grey silk briefs appear. The lump that tented the fabric caught Simon’s eye immediately. He was made to lean forward; he could see but also smell the lust that animated Wilhelm at this moment.

His minder didn’t pull these down; he’d referenced the lumberjack who’d sucked Simon’s hard prick through his underwear. The briefs stayed on but the gag was removed.

“Don’t make me regret my decision, my attractive prisoner. I don’t want to hear a word. Your mouth isn’t gagged for my pleasure only.”

Wilhelm deflated the bladder to free Simon’s mouth. The young escape artist didn’t wait for a start signal, and he puckered his lips before he touched the knob with them underneath the silk. He opened his mouth a little and pushed with the tip of his tongue. The smell was great and the taste was even greater.

He made little circles with his tongue while sucking the knob with his lips. Simon knew of Wilhelm’s sensitive spots from his manual ministrations; no one could please Wilhelm as well as him. The blond abductor had managed to keep chaste all day, though he’d been tempted to get self-release as he was in his hide-out; Simon’s willingness made short work of his lust and he soon was the one who creamed his silk garments.

Simon licked the seeping whitish liquid until there was just saliva covering the underwear.

“Fine performance, Simon. I think you may start over, there’s more where it comes from.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Simon trying out these newfound talents. After a sixth orgasm, he was gagged anew to be transported to the bedroom. He was spread-eagled over Wilhelm’s bed to continue overnight the display of these talents. He got his gag removed four times throughout the night.

Both slept late the following morning, having vivid dreams of what could next happen at the cottage.

The End


to be continued in Riding through the Countryside
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Post by dl68 »

Hi Bondwriter

Great update to the story. I really like the use of a Cub Scout uniform - I just wish in the next chapter the 'special scout style neckerchief' you describe so well is put to good use as a gag, obviously with three others to ensure it is up to standard.

Keep up the good work

DL
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Post by Bondwriter »

Thanks a lot, dl68. There's more Simon to come!
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Post by bondagefreak »

[mention]Bondwriter[/mention] Really glad to have you back on here, bud!
Looking forward to some more smelly sockgagging scenes from you 8-)
Cheers!
FOR A LIST OF ALL MY WRITTEN WORKS, CLICK HERE: BONDAGEFREAK'S STORIES

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Post by Bondwriter »

Thanks for the kind words, Bondagefreak. There are more socks and bodily smells in other sagas (the Sweaty Tie-Up one, notably), but there will be such things in Simon stories indeed.

Here are the first two chapters of a story that feature five chapters total.

Riding through the Countryside

Chapter 1

One of the things Wilhelm loved about living in the British countryside was the quaint and interesting people he got to meet. He wasn’t very outgoing, but his looks and poise usually got the attention of the people he met.

He made acquaintances in pubs. He was always very cautious not to say too much about himself, but his company was sought by many patrons. That’s how he met Lord Montcastre, a local landowner who had stables and liked horse-riding or fox hunting. Lord Montcastre was old Norman nobility, and he was well respected. He was the last in the line; Wilhelm thought that there was little chance he would get an heir. The way he looked at him meant that his leanings wouldn’t lead him into a woman’s bed.

Lord Montcastre, or Alistair as he liked Wilhelm to call him better, had taken Wilhelm horse-riding a few mornings in the brisk air, with talks over a glass of cherry in the great lounge afterwards. A week ago, Lord Montcastre was going away to the Riviera for the summer and he tried to lure Wilhelm with the prospect of long nights in Monte-Carlo.

Wilhelm could leave his young prisoner Simon for a few hours, but he wouldn’t spend a day without the little ginger close by and accessible for some tie-up fun. He politely declined Alistair’s offer. The man had noticed Wilhelm rode well and proposed Wilhelm to come and ride whenever he wanted while he was gone.

Having a big beast to control between his thighs was something Wilhelm enjoyed, so he accepted enthusiastically. The first morning he rode all by himself and then went back to the cottage. He fetched Simon, whom he’d left strapped to his wheelchair, and showed him the horse outside.

“You’re good with animals, Simon! You did well with these bunnies and doves of yours. I’m sure you’d love to ride this horse with me.”

Simon, with his head pinned to the chair and his mouth filled with its plaster cast didn’t reply; yet Wilhelm had heard something.

“What? You don’t want to share with me? You want your own? Maybe I can arrange this for you, if you wish.”

He got Simon inside, rode to the stables and walked back, thinking of how he could manage to get Simon to share his interest in a way that would be both fun and safe. Safe so Simon wouldn’t fall and fun so he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone he was the victim of a kidnapping for months.

“Good, my cute little redhead, you’ve stayed where I left you. You’ve become a bit predictable but I’m still quite touched to find you so cutely sitting in your chair.”

“MMMgrmph.”

The grunt was required; Simon would have done without, but his abductor loved hearing him try to make noise through the gag.

“I think it would be a good idea to have you riding horses with me. There are lots of nice places to explore in the area; they’re just a bit far away if we go by foot.”

There were more moaned questions on these locations where Simon would be taken to, but there wouldn’t be an answer today.

“Never mind. I’ll find a way, rest assured. You like going out so much, I think this afternoon I‘ll have you outside on a leash so you get some exercise. We don’t want you to lose your shape. Or your shapes, for that matter,” he said fondling Simon’s briefs-covered bum.

A collar, a leash, a bag filled with ropes and Wilhelm could go for a full afternoon of fun with his captive.

Three weeks later, early in the morning as the sun was darting its first rays over the lush landscape, two horses rode from the east to the village. Both were elegant young men, sitting quite straight over two fine horses. Their expensive red riding jackets, white jodhpurs, along with the black riding boots and hat fitted them well.

The two horses walked through the village’s main gathering spot, the commons. The church was at little distance, and stores and pubs were installed on the side of the road facing a large grassy area.

Mrs. Gillingham was going to the grocer’s and she couldn’t help but look at the two young gentlemen perched haughtily over their mounts. One seemed taller and lankier than the other one; he held a riding whip, and held his reins tight with one hand. The other rider sat quite straight; he seemed to be a bit stiffer. From what she saw through his trousers, he had much fleshier thighs. At fifty, she didn’t feel ashamed of watching handsome young men. Even their legs…

The one with the whip greeted her, removing his hat to reveal bright yellow hair. The other one looked at her but didn’t say anything. His coat’s collar climbed quite high over his face, so she couldn’t see his mouth. She blushed and managed a ‘thank you, young man’, but the riders were already too far to hear her.

The blond one went on greeting the two groups of people he crossed, while the other one kept his head straight like a posh young man looking down on the commoners. They left the village and took the road to the old quarry.

The blond young man addressed his companion after they’d gone a few tens of yards.

“Well, Simon, it went just as planned.”

If one listened really close, a humming sound could be heard, as the wind had stopped blowing completely. It didn’t sound human, though.

“You must be loving this. I mean the outdoors, the feeling of the wind blowing on your face, and the wonderful point of view you have from riding this beautiful beast. Granted, I got you the tamest and slowest one in the stables. Still, do you feel his flesh between your legs? Do you like his muscles rippling under his hide? Too bad you need this saddle I got you, it kills the feel you have riding bareback.”

“Mmmmmmm…”

“You like your riding hat too? No wonder, it’s a fine piece that I made for you. Your skull is protected, of course, and the metal chin strap does lock your jaws well. I’m afraid without this you could spit out the cast filling your mouth .”

They kept on riding in silence along a path that went down through the quarry. Simon had been there before, when he’d been staked out to be found by the lecherous lumberjack. They passed the clearing where he’d been kept and went further down.

The lumberjack’s shed, where he’d threatened to take Simon, was some distance ahead on the left of the road. As they reached it, they saw the lumberjack sharpening his axe on a grindstone. Wilhelm pulled his reins and the horses stopped.

“Good morning to you, Sir.”

Chapter 2

The lumberjack looked at the two outstanding pieces of elegantly dressed male handsomeness. The one on his left removed his riding hat, venting his face with moves of his hand. The lumberjack had seen him before —the young man who’d come to rescue the ginger he’d found trussed up to a tree.

He addressed the men cautiously. “Good morning, milord.”

Looking at the other rider, the man also recognized him. It was the ginger in question. His riding hat and his coat buttoned all the way up hid most of his face, but he couldn’t forget the wide blue eyes.

“I was wondering, we were told that there were a few spots for bird watching a little further down this path. Is it still far away, and can we ride there?”

The lumberjack envied these idle young men who had nothing else to do but go on rides all day. The other rider looked at him intently, but the wood worker averted his eyes, remembering how he’d sucked off the young man trussed up to a tree a couple months before. The blue-eyed gaze was insistent and it put the lumberjack ill at ease. He focused on the blond one instead.

“Yes, there’s a pond two miles down where there is a bird watching spot. The path is cleared all the way, so your horses can take you there.”

Simon had caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes, meaning he had recognized him. His attempts at warning the man of his continuing captivity seemed in vain; Wilhelm had made a new thicker plaster cast of his mouth. It forced his jaws open a bit more and the rubber mask that was plastered over his face made sure his gob would remain tightly sealed.

He tried twisting and squirming, but the concealed frame that immobilized him over his horse allowed no significant motion.

“Well, thank you very much for the information.”

Wilhelm paused briefly.

“Aren’t you the man who found Simon here when my brother played a prank on him?”

The man looked down at his feet; Simon’s muffled grunts didn’t come across, apparently.

“Mmmm…”

“Yes, I’m the one. He’s not playing with the little boys today, then?”

“Oh, no. Simon has been recovering from a sore throat, and the doctor has advised some fresh air for his nose and a warm collar. He can’t speak for a few days, hence he didn’t greet you. He’s not this rude or haughty. Though that time you met him, the tykes had gagged him rather well.”

“Mmmm.”

The lumberjack chuckled, totally unaware of Simon’s desperate attempts at warning him against Wilhelm’s lies.

“Yes, the boy scouts had done a good job at tricking their troop master.”

“My brother is a little devil indeed. We’ll be on our way, Sir. Have a nice day.”

The young man put his riding hat back on and the two horses were off again, the redhead’s magically drawn into following the other. When they reached a safe distance from the man, Wilhelm turned to Simon, beaming.

“Oh, Simon, thank you so much for keeping on trying after all these times! This is the best thank you I can get. I might even reward us when we’re on our own. I’ve spotted some location where we should be at peace and maybe I can give you one of the treats you enjoy…”

The horses treaded slowly along the path until Wilhelm averted them to get over a narrower one. The branches brushed against the riders but they held steady.

They emerged in what could not really be called a clearing; there were four huge and old trees about forty feet from each other in a square pattern. Throughout the years, they had prevented light reaching the ground, so the floor was mostly bare save for a thin layer of dead leaves.

Simon spotted Wilhelm’s target as he was pulling the reins from both horses and leading them under what had to be an oak aged of several centuries. His abductor seized the pulley attached to the lowest branch with a canvas strap that Simon had seen when they’d entered this space. A coil of rope lay on the branch.

Wilhelm took it and fiddled with Simon’s jacket. There was a button between his shoulder blades that he unhooked to reveal a large steel ring under the red satin. He threaded an end of the rope through it and tied a solid square knot before getting the other end around the pulley. Wilhelm supply jumped down from his ride and attached its reins to a tree stump. He did the same with Simon’s horse; he’d picked the least mettlesome of the stable but he didn’t want his perfect plan to go awry just when the fun had started. He then went to Simon’s stirrups and unscrewed some wing nut that was bolted in it.

“One foot free, one to go,” Wilhelm said, bending over to pass under the horse’s reins. He grabbed the rope dangling from the pulley and removed the other nut. He put it inside his jacket pocket with the other one and he pulled on the rope. He got it taut; he pulled it a bit more, leaning towards the tree. Simon’s bum rose one inch above the saddle. His legs remained in the position, with more of his weight put on the rod riding between his buttocks. Wilhelm yanked the rope a couple more times and Simon was five inches above the horse; he turned its end around the tree under a lower branch, with a clove hitch so Simon would stay up in the air. Wilhelm untied the horse’s reins and made it go backwards, which the animal did very obediently.

“Mmmm!”

Simon’s faint call for help was mocked by his captor.

“Quit worrying, my young friend. You’ve never gotten hurt by me so far, have you? I have no will to begin today. I’ll bring you down very soon. Just hold your breeches for now.”

Simon was playing the Christmas bauble once more. He thought he heard the branch creak. Wilhelm tethered the horse to another tree and he was back to Simon hanging in the air. The sight made Wilhelm think of a frog. Simon’s thighs were spread open, the tight jodhpurs showing all their muscles, and his spine remained incredibly straight despite being dangling from the rope.

Simon’s crotch was straight in front of Wilhelm’s eyes. Simon’s special jodhpurs had some space in front that Simon’s uncontrollable excitement fully filled. Wilhelm patted it tenderly; he then stroked the young rider’s thighs before he reached for the calves.

TBC
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Post by Charmides »

Hi there, [mention]Bondwriter[/mention], and infinite thanks for the new chapters! I have to admit, my friend, Simon's adventures have been some of my favorite tie-up stories since basically forever. Your voice as an author is entirely distinct and totally charming, and I'm constantly impressed by your creative instincts for bondage (gags in particular). Can't wait to see what Simon and Wilhelm get up to next. Thanks again!
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Post by Bondwriter »

Thanks a lot for the very kind comment. Wilhelm and Simon will have other adventures, and I'm afraid poor Simon will be very thoroughly gagged again...
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Post by Bondwriter »

Chapter 3

“All right, my ginger prisoner. It’s nice having you up there, but let’s get you back down to earth.”

He loosened the noose holding the rope to the tree and slowly let it go, until Simon’s feet touched the ground. Wilhelm kept the rope and let it slip inch by inch. Simon tipped towards the back, completely unable to prevent falling backwards. Wilhelm had him land softly over his back until Simon couldn’t go any lower. The dismounted rider was lying over his back, his thighs still bent over a bit at the hips, as if his limbs refused to quit the sitting position Simon had held riding the horse.

“I’ll confess I’m quite proud of what I achieved with this new riding outfit, Simon. You’ll have to wear it on the way back, but for now we’ll remove it, for there are a few things planned that require you to be a bit less tightly restrained.”

He removed buttons and zippers and quickly pulled out flaps and straps concealed underneath. Once he was done, he pulled softly the legs of the outfit, which he peeled away, leaving Simon in his traditional blue briefs. He picked up the costume, still in awe of its clever design. It was sewn to form one piece and meant to be put on its wearer once he’d be framed in metal. It also featured fake arms that swung naturally as those of an experienced horse rider, or at least so thought Wilhelm.

Simon’s actual arms remained along his flanks, trapped in bands of metal which were part of a contraption that imprisoned him from his neck to his knees, with a Y at the bottom of his spine so his thighs formed the inverted V that allowed sitting over the horse. There was a long band running along Simon’s spine. It was wrought iron, and it had been forged to follow the exact curve of a sitting Simon’s back and hips. The other part was welded to this first one-and-a-half inch wide band; it looked like an inverted Y seen from the front; its leg curled along Simon’s butt crack as the two branches went down below his thighs and curled again at the knees, to end at mid-calves.

There were bands encircling the helpless rider’s torso and arms from below his shoulders to his waist. Simon was really well held. The rigid straps with metal in them linking the stirrups to the saddle made the whole contraption a very safe way to walk Simon around on horseback.

“I’m happy with the frame. I wasn’t sure it would work so well. You looked upright, but never did you look stiff.”

Wilhelm fetched two large bags that he had hidden in the bushes the day before. He took out cuffs and straps and tackled freeing Simon from the metal frame while getting him cuffed and hobbled. He stood his prisoner up when he was done.

“I won’t let you stretch too much, but take a couple minutes. I’ll go get something to drink.”

He fetched a canteen from his bag and gulped some down.

The large ring around Simon’s neck gave away the fact that there had to be a muzzle of some kind; but as long as he’d been collared, it would have been impossible for anyone to spot something was wrong. Wilhelm removed the chin-strap. It was not a mere leather strap. It was steel painted black, which he removed by unscrewing nuts from bolts that were concealed by a chin cup. He lifted the riding hat, which was padded with lining.

He then removed the rubber mask with holes for his eyes and nostrils, and the fake rubber lips glued in front, which endowed Simon with some rather enigmatic smile. Once this final layer was removed, the more familiar sight of a taped-up lower face was visible at last. The prisoner let out a sigh of relief as the pressure around his head lessened.

“You’re cooing, you like it when I’m nice, don’t you? This worked well, but I may imagine it was a bit difficult to handle. Let me finish so you can have a sip of water. It’s been five hours since you last had some.”

This had started very early indeed; Wilhelm had dressed him up in the fiendish costume before he fetched the horse at the stables. He had a pulley set up at the back of the house, which was used to lift bags of grain in the attic, and he’d used it to ‘store’ Simon during the hour he’d been away to get to the stables, saddle the horses and ride back to the cottage.

Simon had felt the horse’s head go between his thighs. He was familiar with horses, and he’d learned to ride the ponies at the circus. This wasn’t a pony, though, but a large beast, and being thus imprisoned in the frame, he had no way to exert any control over his ride. His feet were locked into the stirrups, which would prevent him from falling at least, if they were resistant enough.

Wilhelm rode pillion, and sitting comfortably enough on the horse behind Simon, he started setting up then the fiendish contraption that was meant to thwart any attempt at trying to attract attention from people they would be bound to meet.

He’d been wearing his lower face mask overnight; it was removed and so was the soggy fabric filling his mouth. He could drink from the canteen Wilhelm brought up to his lips. No chance was taken as they were outside, and the captor plastered his hand over Simon’s face when the he took the water away.

Simon was then treated to an experience similar to those he’d endured so many times over the last few months. The plaster cast Wilhelm had made for him had been slid between his lips; this latest version was slightly bigger and didn’t allow for the teeth to touch when he closed his mouth.

Then tape had sealed his lips and trapped the bulky and perfectly fitting shape inside. Two turns went around the head, and as other layers were added, the tightness and force of the gagging apparatus became painfully clear to the poor kidnapped escape artist.

“Back to simplicity for this one. You’ll be unable to make enough noise to warn anyone of what’s going on, won’t you?” Wilhelm whispered as he leaned into Simon and set his right hand over the red riding jacket, effectively kneading his nipple.

“MMmmm!”

Wilhelm heard some rebellion in the nasal sound.

“I doubt you can now, but you sound quite feisty and incensed, I’d better make sure you don’t try anything funny. And to make sure no one can notice these finely filled cheeks of yours and see your expertly sealed lips, let me add a few layers.”

Chapter 4

Wilhelm had set the mask over the boy’s gagged face, and had finished by putting Simon’s riding hat on. Wilhelm had made a shape of Simon’s skull shortly after he’d arrived, precisely so that he could design and craft proper head gear. For this adventure, he had modified a riding hat, replacing the filling with metal and leather straps to make it a proper muzzle.

Once he’d rid the hat of anything but the outside shell, he’d put a one-inch wide metal band that went inside, sticking out perpendicularly from where the ears would be, and fixed to the top of the hat and the side with small rivets. Then he’d stuck wide leather straps of various thicknesses to adapt closely to Simon’s cranial morphology.

The two metal bands made a chin strap. He slid two leather strips sewn together over the metal so the gleam of the metal wouldn’t be seen. He had a buckle and strap with an actual chin piece that was used to fasten the two strips of metal together and allow for some high tightening.

This is why Wilhelm had once again managed to show his captive around to an incredible number of witnesses, none of which had seen anything other than some haughty idle horse rider looking down on peasants. Even the lumberjack had been fooled.

And now he was lying over his back inside the woods, in a remote and inaccessible place, with Wilhelm still intent on keeping him under his strict control. The packing was removed; Wilhelm grabbed Simon’s head by his nape and lifted it; he brought the canteen to the prisoner’s lips and some water flowed into Simon’s mouth. He avidly emptied the canteen, and Wilhelm didn’t refrain him. Simon braced for what would come next, as a hand was clamped over his mouth.

“I hope the water and the less strenuous position you’re in revive you a bit. I feel like having some rope fun. Are you up to a challenge? No chains or locks, just ropes. You’ll get a treat if you manage to get out. I’ll tie you again immediately afterwards, but you know I play fair.”

This wasn’t exactly Simon’s opinion, but the hand forbade him any curt retort.

“I’ll gag you with something simple yet elegant to reflect the simplicity of this outdoors setting. Scarves and white cotton hankies could be a way.”

A ball of white hankies coming out from one of Wilhelm’s pocket was stuffed inside Simon’s mouth. The blond captor then used no less than six silk scarves to gag Simon: a cleave, an over the mouth scarf, one going under his chin and tied to the top of his head, another one reinforcing the jaws locking and making it more difficult to slip, another over the mouth one and a final over the nose one. This final scarf featured four layers of thin silk only, but it hampered breathing sufficiently to thwart any hope of being heard by someone more than a few feet away.

“Good, less trouble on this end. Now for some inventive and creative rope fun.”

Wilhelm left the cuffs on while he started his job. He went to get another bag and a small crate he’d brought the day before on foot. He got white cotton rope out of the bag. Coils were wrapped around Simon at the usual places from shoulders to ankles (wherever there was a joint, actually.) There were four or six turns and it felt rather loose, but Simon knew the slack wouldn’t last.

A first pass was made to straighten and tighten these loops encircling Simon’s body. Wilhelm then grabbed a first doubled-up coil of rope, the middle of which he threaded through Simon’s thighs at their top. He let a finger glide over the briefs as he pushed the end between the boy’s genitals and the first coil of rope encircling his thighs quite high.

The two ends were threaded through the loop that stuck out in front and pulled. Once Wilhelm had pulled them all the way through, they tightened the loop they were coiled around, making it a set of rope manacles. He knotted the lashing but left the loose ends on the ground.

He repeated the procedure above and below the knees, and at the ankles. Then he did the arms, with lashings at the armpits and elbows, pinning his arms to the sides. The cuffs and straps were finally removed, and another rope pass over the existing bonds took another ten minutes.

“It seems everything’s in order, so it should work like a charm.”

He pulled the rope ends coming through the ankles and pulled on it, folding his legs back at the knees. He pushed them through the thighs and then turned them around the thighs three times, removing any slack with every turn.

He used all the ends of the lashing ingeniously. He’d made sketches before, and this made for an inescapable ball-tie. The entertaining aspect of playing with Simon is that there was an actual chance he could escape and also that he was trained to endure very restricting positions.

The various ropes pulled his calves against his thighs; his knees touched his chest and his hands were locked in rope at the small of his back, with ropes pulling them up from one end and down from the other. Wilhelm reckoned this was fast to finish up the ball-tie. He stood and took a couple steps back to have a better look at the final result.

“I must say this looks really good. But it could look better.”

Simon had ended up on his side. Wilhelm crouched next to him and grabbed his shoulder and his hip and lifted him so he’d rest on his shins.

“Please keep the position, Simon. This might be a bit difficult, but I need to set up the camera to document my handiwork. Keep the pose for a moment; it shouldn’t last over twenty minutes…”

Sustaining a face-down position when ball-tied so tightly was tough. Simon managed quite well, but he didn’t know how long he would last. He could hear Wilhelm opening the crate, which held his camera, his lenses and his tripod. There had been a few times when Simon had been photographed. He’d even been taught to process film and photographs, chained in the lab in the basement. Wilhelm loved these photo-albums, naturally, but also the process and having something he did along with Simon .

Wilhelm was efficient and soon had everything set up. He took a series of pictures of Simon in his ball-tie. The need to ensure Simon could keep the pose for a little longer arose; Wilhelm was spotting more and more interesting angles to get close-ups of his redheaded captive who kept falling on his side.

“You’re incorrigible, Simon! You need a little help, I guess. This ball-tie is rather immobilizing, I may admit. Nevertheless you should be more eager to satisfy my artistic needs. Let’s see what we can do.”

TBC
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Post by blackbound »

Really love these, thank you for continuing to post them.
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Post by Bondwriter »

Thanks a lot, Blackbound. Glad to see Simon has fans all over. And I always enjoy seeing your profile pic! ;)
Here is the final chapter of this episode of Simon's adventures.

Chapter 5

Wilhelm always had solutions to this type of issues. He picked up a long coil of rope; he threw it to a big and solid branch eight feet above the ground and used both ends on Simon. When Wilhelm was done threading the rope through those already binding the poor young man, he was kept lying on his knees with his bum sticking up, the rope pulling him up to the branch running along his crack and drawing the briefs’ fabric tight against it.

“You’re in a perfect position, Simon. These will be some amazing photographs.”

Simon had to kneel still like this for a very long time, with Wilhelm holding his camera or putting it over the tripod with its legs lowered. He pushed on the button only when everything was fine, and he used savant settings to get the most out of the daylight in the woods. It took a while between photographs, which seemed a long time even to Simon. Eventually, after much praise and cheers throughout the shooting session, Wilhelm announced it was over.

“Perfect, Simon, twenty-eight shots in the can. I think I will have another series. What do you think posing riding the horse?”

There was a grunt in response to this purely rhetorical question.

“Great, I knew you’d agree. And yes, you will remain gagged of course.”

Silence ensued, Simon having gotten used to submitting to Wilhelm’s taunts and his misinterpretation of any attempt at intelligible speech the gagged boy made. Only the noise of ropes swishing from Wilhelm unknotting and removing them could be heard in the forlorn clearing.

Soon Simon was standing with his arms held in a tight rope harness; he was fully in the nude. Simon didn’t know it, but Wilhelm had managed to find a few wealthy amateurs of explicit photographs of young men bound and gagged.

He was working this time for an old industrialist who’d become a widower in his early forties; this had turned out to be a new beginning for him after a very brief period of mourning. He had since dedicated his leisure time to the pursuit of dominating young men, and he was willing to spend outrageous amounts on art and literature that documented his little hobby.

He’d made a request to Wilhelm for pictures of his young model in the nude, arms bound behind his back riding a horse bareback. So Wilhelm complied; he tied his arms together with his hands palm to palm. Simon’s hands lined over his crack.

He put Simon in well-polished riding boots next; these featured the necessary fixtures to be tied to be screwed to the stirrups, but for now Simon would wear them for their amazing sheen. It enhanced Simon’s plump but muscular calves, which would make Wilhelm’s patron faint with lust, as the man had a serious leather fetish.

There would be no stirrups: Wilhelm removed the saddle from Simon’s horse. He then tied a temporary harness around the boy’s torso so he could lift him up on the horse as he’d done the times before. Simon was soon sitting on the horse, feeling the warmth of the animal under him. Wilhelm took a long belt. There were eye-holes at each end; he threaded these to the small curved hooks sticking out the inside of the boots above the ankles where it clicked shut.

The belt went below the horse’s belly and kept Simon pinned to the horse. He stood still and got his proper balance; Wilhelm was removing the rope harness; the arms wrapped in yards of rope remained as stringently bound, with Simon’s fingers pressing up his bum as he was sitting on them riding the horse.

The tripod was used extensively over the next two hours and a half. The horse was placid and calm, so it could be easily moved around to change the background for the photographs. Wilhelm knew that diversity of the shots would please his customer, who paid a high price that would ensure some financial comfort for the months to come. If the German teen wanted to pull a kidnapping that would bring in major money, he would need some finance to rent places and vehicles, and the income from the pictures could provide for this.

Simon naked riding the horse looked really good. Wilhelm climbed and rode pillion a few times to change Simon’s gag. This also was something that would make the old man come back with more money for what was a rather easy job, considering he had a perfect model to accommodate the man’s tastes. Simon got to wear his half-mask, his hood with the triangular opening for the eyes and nose and various scarves combined in intricate and tight multi-layered gags.

“I really like the fact that a new gag means you having a raging erection for half an hour, Simon. With your vigorous willy fully visible, the pictures will look much more impressive. Smile!”

Every time several shots were made. The film had to be changed every so often as Wilhelm was less shy to click than in the previous series.

There had been over sixty shots when it was over. Wilhelm was putting away his camera and equipment; they were done for the day and now the time to process the film and get the prints had come. This would be for the next day anyway, as they still had a busy schedule before they’d be back to Wilhelm’s cottage.

The blond kidnapper was checking he had not forgotten anything when he heard whinnying. He hadn’t tied the horse’s reins. He intended to get Simon back on the ground so he could get him back in the frame and costume before they’d leave.

A bee had landed on the horse’s flank, and the tail trying to brush it off had triggered the bee into stinging. The horse was docile and peaceful, but it wasn’t used to pain and the fierceness of the stinger planting itself in its skin sent him kicking out before it started running.

Simon held on and anticipated the horse’s move; he kept his balance, and the path the horse was taking was left unencumbered of branches as the one they’d taken to reach the clearing. They were actually soon on what could have been a riding alley. The horse was apparently releasing some pent-up energy it had accumulated. As soon as the pain subsided, its true nature took over. It was now trotting, which triggered some strange vibrations throughout Simon’s body.

The horse now walked; Wilhelm’s own ride caught up with it. The German teen caught its reins and had the animal stop.

“All safe with your cousin Wilhelm now, Simon.”

He reached for the boner and kneaded it softly, keeping the two sets of reins in his other hand to prevent any other surprise. His palm closed over Simon’s dick; it remained even more turgid and started being slightly slippery.

Wilhelm challenged himself to wank Simon as they rode back to the clearing. His control of the horses allowed for focus on mastering the young ginger beast riding at his side. And the lively snake that stuck out of his pubis.

There were muffled groans warning Wilhelm of the imminent outburst of lust and the cock twitched and writhed in his hand before spurting out copious amounts of semen that fell on the horse’s mane. The post-orgasm wail told of some impressive orgasm.

“You’ve had your small break, Simon, but we don’t have time to frolic. The horses have to be back in the stables at five. I’ll get you dressed up to ride through the village again.”

Wilhelm put all his equipment under a tarp, safe from any unwanted eyes at the back of a bush; he would drive later on to get them back. He then had to perform the process of taking his captive down from the horse, locking him to his metal frame with the deceptive chic riding costume.

Wilhelm was just done lowering Simon over the horse when he heard voices in the distance. He quickly removed the rope and the pulley and went to put them with the rest of the equipment. He took a few steps back to make sure it couldn’t be seen. He was about to get on his horse when voices could be heard behind him.

“Oh, hi, Sir!”

He turned around, getting his foot of the stirrup, looking slightly annoyed at being interrupted in what he was doing.

“Hello, young man,” he replied to one of the three boys who’d burst into the clearing. It was Joseph, one of the boys who’d seen Simon in his scarecrow outfit. Of course, the lads had had no inkling of Simon being under the costume, securely bound and gagged and unable to attract their attention to his woes. Wilhelm didn’t intent to make it any easier for his captive to warn the boys this time .

Joseph was with his friends John and James. The three boys were once again in search of cases to solve; they read dime novels and fiction with detectives and young reporters who always go into trouble. The boys longed for some similar adventures, at least one of them having a specific interest in being the victim of villains who would restrain him to prevent him from alerting anyone on their misdeeds; he would certainly be gagged also to avoid his calling for help.

But as they got into the clearing, they were more curious about who the riders were. Wilhelm saw the way they looked at him; he removed his riding hat so they would recognize him from the time at the cherry orchard.

“Joseph, John and James! Glad to see you!”

His remembering their names got Wilhelm to score a big point.

“Oh, it’s you. We’re doing fine, thank you.”

“mmmmmmmm…”

The faint droning sound was gone with the wind, which blew towards Wilhelm and Simon. The bound rider tried to twist around, and possibly make his horse react. But it was in vain, the frame allowed for almost no motion. He had to witness once more that Wilhelm’s favourite defence was attack.

“Having fun exploring again? Well, it’s been quite a full day for me. But we’re now running a new experiment with a different prototype. Please meet B-69, the latest of our specimens of human-like machines. This one is particularly designed to ride horses. The funders who back our projects envision the use of such automatons in armed conflict.”

“You mean war, Sir?” James asked.

“Shh! Don’t say the word. Yes, but maybe I’ve told you too much already.”

“Oh, no, Sir, we never told anyone about your electrical scarecrow. Your secret is safe with us.”

“Good, glad to see there are still brave and patriotic young men to protect the kingdom.”

The boys were beaming with pride at being thus deemed worthy of confidences. Simon couldn’t believe they couldn’t spot anything awkward with his rigid posture and that none of his calls reached their ears. Wilhelm didn’t feel like he could really risk a longer meeting; he’d better take his leave and get Simon back to the cottage safely.

“I’ll let you check there are no poachers or any such criminals in the woods, lads. I have more experiments to run on B-69, to tune it so it may keep its balance better and be better at making noise. A speaking automaton would sure frighten enemies, but we have a long way to go before a machine is capable of speech. It’s quite gruelling work testing B-69’s abilities. The results are due next month, so there’s no time to lose,” he said with a sly smile, “but I didn’t tell you anything about it.”

“Don’t worry, Sir,” John said, “our lips are sealed.”

“Mmmm.”

This remark triggered a last reaction from Simon, but his horse was already leaving, following Wilhelm’s who held both sets of reins to prevent any new escapade of the supposedly peaceful horse. The ride was uneventful, but for the taunts and gloating Simon was submitted to.

“Their lips are sealed! It seems theirs are not the only ones. But yours have been so a bit more permanently. I wasn’t amused by you trying to warn them, by the way. Such a behaviour calls for some time in the gibbet cage, don’t you think?”

This went on until they were in sight of the horse stables. Wilhelm veered to the right inside a coppice. He had spotted a branch at the proper height. He had the pulley and rope at hand; soon the white cotton dangled from the pulley that was solidly fixed to the branch.

The routine to get Simon off his horse was getting familiar; the redheaded Houdini landed on the ground three minutes later. He was unable to keep his balance and had to wait until Wilhelm let him slip all the way on the back. His limbs were held rigidly in the metal frame.

Wilhelm climbed back over his ride once Simon was lying on the ground. The young rider removed the rope and pulley and dropped them next to the Y shape Simon made.

“Stay here while I get the horses to their stables. Then I’ll come to get you.

Simon didn’t bother replying as the sound of hooves on the road faded away. Here he was, stuck in a very restricting trap and yet deeply aroused by Wilhelm’s games; the photography session had been somewhat pleasant, which made him wonder about his confused feelings towards Wilhelm. He realized with horror that he longed for some sexual games at the hands of his captor.

He couldn’t get out of the frame and costume, no matter how hard he tried; when Wilhelm’s lorry’s engine roared half an hour later, Simon was virtually at the same place he’d been when Wilhelm left. The driver’s door slammed shut.

“Back, my sweet redhead. Oh my!” Wilhelm said as he leaned over Simon and patted the front of well-filled jodhpurs, “I love to see how much you display that you enjoy being my guest. But I don’t have time for an amorous moment right now. I’ll get you in your crate and we can be on our way. I just need to get my camera and all the rest of our equipment but it’s on the way home.”

He lifted the ‘rider’ and dragged him to the back of the lorry. He climbed in and pulled Simon inside. There was a big crate open. It was huge and it could accommodate Simon with his spread legs easily. There were cushions located at all the right places so once lying inside, Simon was held perfectly still.

There were of course straps to hold him within the crate and ensure he couldn’t move and get his presence known this way. The gag he wore would muffle his screams and the thick walls of the crate wouldn’t help to be heard outside.

“Yet another clever way to transport you without any risk of an escape,” Wilhelm said as he slowly closed the lid of the crate. Simon heard the click of padlocks being shut and laid in the dark. The lorry started; Simon calmed down and gathered himself. He actually fell asleep, hence he had no idea how long he’d been in the crate when it eventually opened.

He was back at the cottage, with Wilhelm standing over him, the lid of the crate freshly opened.

“We’re home, Simon. Since you’ve being doing rather well on your horse today, I was thinking that maybe we could try how you handle the pommel horse in the basement this evening? Unless you’d rather spend the night in the gibbet cage, of course!”

Simon was home indeed.

End of the episode
kankuro10
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Post by kankuro10 »

Wow. I had forgotten to look at this topic after reading the first adventures of Simon again. It brings me back memories. I love the stories of "New Adventures of Simon". I love the moments of Simon and Wilhelm.

If I remember correctly, "Riding through the Countryside" was the last story published of "New Adventures". I hope it isn't the last one, because the adventures of Simon and Wilhelm are very exciting and interesting.

Thanks for sharing these stories again.
Bondwriter
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Post by Bondwriter »

Riding in the Countryside is the last Simon and Wilhelm story. I'll repost the last written one. It takes place before the New Adventures, and quite a while after The Big Cheese. I hesitated putting it in the other section, but let's get it posted here first.

Simon and the Wicked Brothers

1. A Happy Family

Augustus Marcy felt great: after a good night of restful sleep, he enjoyed a sip of his custom-made coffee blend. He was sitting at the end of the large table in the dining room where they had their family meals. His two sons William and Theodore faced each other at his sides, Augustus taking great pride in their conversational talent while listening to a lively discussion about what they had planned for the day.

Augustus took great pride from having become a successful business owner. He knew his heirs, currently aged sixteen and seventeen, would take the business over and perpetuate the thriving security company he had developed; this comforting feeling made his life even more meaningful.

He cast an admiring look at the two siblings who were having an animated discussion on what the final order of the photo-shoot would be. William looked more like his late mother, who had left this world almost a decade ago to this day. He had her fine features and her mesmerizing grey-blue eyes. Theodore took more after his dad, with a wide and cheerful face. Both boys spent a lot of time on the diamond or on the court, so they looked very healthy.

Augustus now saw them as men. They were about to finish high school; they would study in the local university soon, but he wanted them to stay around so they could also spend time learning about the business.

For the last year or so, Augustus had been glad to see them come over after school and work at the business. They had performed various jobs, from clerical stuff to handling cargo in the warehouse or even helping out over at the assembly line.

They seemed well liked by the staff, and they had had long talks with their dad about the company. They were well-versed in locks, bars and safes, and how to make metal objects. They also were quite curious about the relationships there were inside the plant. They were good at reading people, and they surprised their father by the acuteness of their observations.

William and Theodore had even made suggestions on how to improve manufacturing, identifying poorly sequenced tasks between production and packaging; their father had used their idea and had saved ten minutes of labor over the production of a lock, which was a major improvement.

Augustus had paid attention to what they said from there on; they would certainly go into the business, and he decided testing them further. There was to be an advertising campaign for the new Perma-Lock safes, and they had showed an interest in this. He decided to let them handle the job with the San Francisco agency that managed the campaign.

Augustus had been impressed by the way his sons handled it. They came up with the idea for the campaign: they would hire a celebrity to peddle the company products. They had found an adequate representative for the new brand: Simon, the Escape Artist. Augustus had learned of this young man when his sons had told him about him; they were more knowledgeable in escape artistry than he was.

This performer was one of the most prominent artists in his small circus; he’d been featured in newspapers many times. It wasn’t always for artistic or show business reasons; the artist had fallen prey to unsavory patrons, who actually kidnapped him. His sons had ensured there wouldn’t be any issue. This was good enough for Augustus.

The advertising agency had been enthusiastic; William and Theodore were placed in charge of negotiating with this escape artist for a photo-shoot. They did so enthusiastically and secured the contract within two weeks.

It turned out the circus the escape artist performed in was coming to their town in Northern California as part of the tour, and the generous budget that was allocated for a model convinced him quickly.

“You seem quite perky this morning, boys. I thought you had the whole thing completely planned out?”

“Yes, dad,” William replied, “But this is the first project we’ve been put in charge of completely, and you know how much we would hate to fail. What we’ve got to do isn’t this difficult, but it requires thoughtful execution.”

“William is right, dad, we want this to be perfect. The fate of the Perma-Lock depends on good advertising!”

“All right, boys. Let’s hurry, then, and get to the plant. What time are you supposed to meet the escape artist, already?”

“Eight thirty, so yes, let’s not dawdle.”

Twenty minutes later, at eight fifteen, they entered the plant in Augustus’ Cadillac. There were three buildings: one for the offices, a larger one hosted the factory and a third one was a warehouse. Augustus parked in his designated spot. The boys rushed out the car; this advertising project seemed to motivate them.

The prospect of meeting Simon, the Escape Artist had the brothers quite wired up, William especially. It wasn’t only meeting him, but the whole plan the handsome teen had designed over the last six months; exchanging with his sibling had helped him to think things through. Under the guise of working for this advertising campaign, he had also worked hard on organizing the side project.

William had followed Simon’s feats and achievements in the papers for almost two years. The first time he had heard of ‘the new Houdini’, it was two years previous. He remembered vividly his emotion when he’d seen an article in a Midwest newspaper, telling of the ordeal Simon had suffered, being kidnapped and ruthlessly bound and gagged by a teen, who’d used his private performance as an opportunity to abduct him.

‘Birthday Party Gone Awry’, the headline read. This hadn’t attracted William’s attention straight away, but the first sentence caught his eye. ‘A 12-year old boy escaped the 15-year old boy who’d abducted him.’ This piqued William’s interest.

William had read the same story later on in a dime novel. It had inspired some pulp artist who had described at length the various predicaments Simon had had to suffer. William found the story surprisingly engrossing, and he’d read it over and over as a bedtime story.

This was much better than the news article. The descriptions of what happened to Simon featured details on how the boy got bound and gagged. He knew these sentences by heart after a while, but they stirred emotions in his loins every time he read them nonetheless.

There had been more adventures, notably in Chicago, when Simon had been caught in a mobsters’ war. William had also noted all the new tricks and favorable reviews the escape artist gathered show after show and town after town. They described the narratives the tricks used. He liked the story of Simon being the prey of a gang of smugglers, with them locking him in crates only to see him appear free a couple minutes later. He’d use crates that aren’t tricked, though.

When William had read that the circus’ tour was to stop in their town for two weeks, he had thought this was a clear sign fate sent him.

William had liked tying up others long ago. There had been games with neighbors when they’d roped someone to a tree. The first times, this was more for play than anything, but William had made the following bindings tighter and much better, making sure all the ropes were laid out to prevent release by the captive.

It turned out Theodore liked escape artistry challenges. The two brothers had then practiced knots on each other. William grew better and better at restraining his brother, but his sibling reciprocated the favor, and Theodore soon got William into inescapable hogties or ruthless ball-ties.

Theodore had noticed how excited his younger brother was when he tied him up; he’d left him in a hogtie and when he’d freed him, the front of his underwear was all wet. There had been teasing and a hand job the next time, which William had told about when he’d been the one binding the ropes, though he’d not acted on it himself.

Theodore had had a girlfriend for a few months now, and it had taken him away from home and much less willing to indulge in their brotherly games. When William saw the announcement of the circus’ tour, he couldn’t believe it; his imagination went wild. This made the loss of his brother’s attention less painful.

William thought about different scenarios to get acquainted with Simon; when he heard of the need for an advertising campaign at the office, the idea of having Simon model seemed obvious. The artist’s field was in line with the safes and locks his father sold. There had been associations of safe brands with escape artists before, so it would make sense to people in his father’s business.

William lobbied various players, including his father, whom he convinced easily. He shared his actual intent with his brother, and recruited him for some help. Theodore agreed, thinking it was a fun prank to play on an escape artist.

William would re-enact Simon’s Kansas abduction at the hands of Wilhelm. Wilhelm was William in German, so it had to be a sign of the stars that this was the example to follow, and that he would be a successful abductor.

William was really busy with his plan; there were places to find and some logistics involved, but he soon had a rather clear idea of how it could go down. He had to remain discreet; his father would not approve of his scheme.

This was the morning when it should take place. William had played the plot in his head on their way to the plant: he was fully ready for Simon.

At eight-thirty, William and Theodore were outside and the chauffeured car they had booked for Simon entered the courtyard. William stood straight, looking as stern and business-like as he could.

He couldn’t help breaking into a smile as the ginger-haired lad got out from the car, holding a bag in hand, with his costume no doubt. He was dressed with clean cotton clothing; William was a bit disappointed he wasn’t dressed in his customary outfit, but he could see how it could be difficult to walk around wearing just skimpy silk blue briefs.

“Good morning, Simon! Did you have a nice trip?”

William shook his guest’s hand, with his brother next in line for greeting the escape artist.

Simon wasn’t the little boy described in the story. He was a young man who was five feet five or six, and an athletic frame. Broad shoulders, a thin waist and solid legs: he looked fit, even if he was smaller than they were both.

William didn’t want to be caught staring at his prey. They exchanged pleasantries and William offered a tour of the plant.

“This way, we can show you the wares we make here; the photographers should be here any minute, but they still need some time to set their cameras and lights up.”

“Of course, I’d love to see how this all works.”

William and Theodore proved very good guides. They started with the factory, showing all the assembly lines and some of the most impressive cutting tools. The foundry was what amazed their visitor most. Liquid iron flowing down in molds is quite a remarkable sight.

They left the plant and entered the warehouse. The two photographers had arrived.

“Hi, I’m William Marcy, here’s my brother Theodore and this is Simon, the Escape Artist.”

The two men greeted them and there was a short talk about the best locations for the photo-shoot. This had been more or less settled when they had visited three weeks before, but they ran over the schedule once again.

“We’ll let you finish preparing; we’ll show Simon the offices and we’ll be back right after.”

Being thus the center of attention, Simon felt really important: a car had come to the camp to pick him up, he had visited this huge factory and there were professionals involved in taking his picture… He was a star. The money was good too, and considering the slow times around them, the circus didn’t have it too bad. The last two years had seen improvements, and this new job was one of the many Simon had pulled for the circus.

They entered the office building; there was less to visit there, but they walked around both floors until they reached Marcy Senior’s office.

2. A Photo-shoot to remember

“Hey, dad, this is Simon. Simon, meet our father, Augustus Marcy.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sir,” Simon said, shaking the hand of the burly man vigorously.

“We gave Simon a tour of the plant. We saw the camera crew in the warehouse, so we’ll go and get the photo-shoot done.”

“Very good, boys. Well, young man, if my sons showed you the Perma-Lock, you‘ve seen how innovative it is. The electrical alarm system makes it one hundred percent inviolable. It’s the safest safe! I guess you know a thing or two on locks?”

William and Theodore patiently waited for their father to finish his conversation with Simon, whose genuine expertise and talent at conversation made quite the partner for a long talk on locks, bolts and pins. Once the young escape artist had showed he was the one to do the job, at least in their father’s eyes, it was time to take Simon back to the warehouse for the photo-shoot.

“We need to explain to you the ideas we’ve come up with for the adverts for the Perma-Lock, but it’ll be easier to do so on location. We might enact a few of the scenarios we’ve thought about for the campaign. Edgar has picked your luggage, so we may go..”

The hand from the office pushed a cart carrying the trunk Simon had brought with, featuring a variety of clothing and gear. They had sent letters explaining there should be comedy situations with an escape artist, defeated by the products they made. If the equipment they peddled mastered a talented and skilled expert like Simon, it would prove its worth.

The redheaded knot-fighter had gathered some of the costumes he had for this particular endeavor. There had been a few designed and tailor-made for him over the years to accompany the various stories he enacted. Simon for one, and Stilo along with him, had recognized the importance of narratives for their show. Stilo in his prime had been a talented storyteller, which allowed him to endure in the business. Simon had imagined many of the situations.

A number had the young escape artist as a private snoop, dressing up in a cat burglar suit to explore a bad guy’s lair. He got caught, but thankfully he could outperform the expert rope bondage the villains wove him into. Simon liked the costume, which fit him like a glove. It was the satiniest silk and the glossy black enhanced his fine silhouette.

The number had been a hit no doubt because of the genuine joy Simon displayed playing the character, not totally aware of the sensuous richness he exuded in those showy outfits. He’d gotten lots of attention for his costumes. Some enthusiastic admirers had even sent new ones. They all featured a tight cut. They fit him, but rather on the tight side, which felt strange but yet was in line with his numbers.

“You’re an amazing performer,” William told Simon. “Your show is really amazing.”

The brothers had come to see the show two days previous, and they’d already praised Simon then; the young entertainer didn’t mind the attention and praise. He smiled back and replied to this pleasant young fellow.

“Thanks, I’m lucky to work with a great team.”

They were in sight of the warehouse. It was a large brick building with very high windows. It looked massive, and it offered indeed some space inside.

“We’ve thought of some set-ups using your ideas for funny and impressive pictures. Of course you could be a thief and get beaten by the Perma-Lock,” Theodore said

“I could be. But then, unless I’m a thief who always escapes, why is the Perma-Lock special?”

“You’ve got it, Simon. One possibility would be to have you as a thief. There would be small pictures on top of the page depicting you robbing safes without ever encountering any resistance. Then you try to break the Perma-Lock and then you end up in it! It baffled you so much that you wasted time and got caught, and the owner has you stuck, bound and gagged inside his safe. William will play the owner. That’s eight photos for this story. We have more for later on, of course. We’re getting there, we’ll decide what to start with next.”

They entered through a large double door; there was a hall and another set of doors that opened over the warehouse.

It was over a hundred feet in breadth and there were rows of safes over half of the surface. There were also boxes stacked up, containing the stainless steel hardware the company produced too. It came from the firm’s plants up a couple hundred miles north, William told Simon.

They reached the cleared up space in the far right corner. Two men were busy setting up lights for one and installing a camera on a tripod for the other.

“Meet Horace and Moe, Simon. They’re the photographers who’ll help us in getting great results for the advert.”

They shook hands and greeted each other. The young people seemed particularly eager to get started.

“Let me show you what I can dress up like to play a burglar,” Simon said, opening the trunk. The two brothers were curious of what was in it. William spotted the chains, the folded underwear, the scarves… He’d set aside a good amount of gear himself, but using Simon’s own gear to abduct him felt even more arousing. The artist picked up a large black body suit. William had pictures of Simon wearing this outfit in his Simon scrapbook.

There were screens set up just so the model could change free of unwanted looks. Simon removed his jacket, shirt and pants and stepped inside the body suit. There was a zipper up the back, which he managed to pull up himself without any difficulty.

There was a mirror to help dressing up; Simon adjusted the material slowly. It was tailor-made after all, and it was worth it taking a little time making sure there were neither creases nor folds. Simon was a bit vain and he took long glances at himself, admiring the way his body was growing and how it translated in stretching the glove-like garment. He put on the eye mask to get in character fully. He stepped out of the intimacy of the screens. William was waiting for him.

The young host knew enough to remain quiet. He’d have liked to scream with glee at the sight of the young man wrapped up in black silk, which showed all his pleasant features, his thin frame and luscious curves enhanced by the shimmering fabric. This would make the non-tie-up photo-shoot all the more pleasant.

“You definitely look the part. You’re in perfect shape so you should be a convincing burglar, one that should be feared by law-abiding citizens.”

For the first two hours Simon had to pose in front of open safes, looking at the camera with a grin. His costume made for a great prop, as it caught the light well and would give an eerie look on the photographs.

The photo-shoot went fine. Edgar had another man helping him bring the safes. They came from the showroom and were demo versions, so they weren’t as heavy as the real ones. This made it possible to go rather fast. Simon stood in the positions William requested, with the two photographers actually following the young man’s lead.

Horace and Moe thought they’d seen it all. They’d done modelling shoots for a while, but these rich brats’ ideas were a novelty. The young performer’s outfits turned him into a burlesque doll.

The photographers could feel the tension on the set; this William kid had an amorous interest in his little friend. They would get a fat check, so the best was to do what they were asked, get the money and split.

William stood on the side and made a very conscious effort not to show his arousal at the display in front of him while not losing one second of the show.

Simon was having some fun posing; he did it with heart, anyway; it wasn’t this difficult and he was paid a good deal of money, enough for him to be very patient and do all he was asked to.

It was getting late in the morning and about time for lunch. The photographer and his assistant left, along with Theo who went to pick up sandwiches for his brother and Simon, who could talk about the sequels.

“We’ve got some great shots in the can, Simon. Thanks a ton. Do you have any idea of how to best tie you up for the camera?”

“With this outfit, white rope is a must, of course. Then, what would be best is not only to tie-up the burglar but store him away in the safe. Let me get some rope.”

The helpful entertainer picked six long coils of white cotton rope from his trunk. He set them carefully over a small table meant to store props.

“Should I make you a demonstration by binding your arms behind your back, William?”

“I know how to tie a knot, and I think I know how it works, thank you. Of course if you could show me how to improve my own talent at tying knots, I’m willing to learn.”

William turned his back to Simon, crossing his wrists submissively behind his back. Simon had met his fair share of willing masochists, who’d offered him to keep them captive. He didn’t mind indulging them in their little fancy. He’d even experimented with a trick in which a volunteer from the audience had to be cuffed to a pole, and Simon was then locked in a glass cage. A curtain fell, and Simon was next behind the captive, ready to unlock the cuffs. The volunteers had been quite enthusiastic about the number, and one had even offered Simon to become his assistant.

Simon used a single piece of rope that imprisoned his wrists, elbows, arms and shoulders. Simon left the final knot within reach, though some stretching was required.

William felt the end of the rope against his back and sensed there was a flaw. He exploited it fully: he beamed proudly when he got a hold of the knot and picked it untied with his fingertips.

“This was nice of you to give me a way out,” William conceded.

His brother was back with the picnic basket. The three boys ate sandwiches and drank some lemonade, standing on the side. The brothers had Simon talk about his trade. He told them anecdotes regarding his artistic life.

“I love hearing escape artist stories straight from the mouth of one; I’ve read in the newspapers you’ve been actually abducted many times. What did it feel like? Were you scared?”

This was a part of his biography Simon always commented on in character: his entertainment persona was this of a tough, rugged escape artist. To Simon the Escape Artist, he could handle a couple days of kidnapping because of the training and discipline circus life demanded.

“I never was really afraid. Most of the time I managed to escape, even though most of the time my kidnappers caught me before I finally broke out of their hold. This is what I work for everyday: I want to master my feelings when restrained. This way I can escape for the audience’s delight. The times I was held a real captive, I knew it could take longer to get an opening to break free, but I always trusted my skills and the endurance the training brought in me. I don’t get scared this easy!”

His well-rehearsed line impressed William, who had yet another challenge in front of him. He would abduct Simon but also break his will. These most wicked thoughts whirled in his mind as they swallowed the final bites of their cold meal.

The young performer saw the look in his host’s eye; he could now detect the attraction his craft exerted over some like-minded fellows. William sure belonged to this group. He’d behaved like a gentleman so far. They weren’t on their own, so he was safe from his deviant tendencies.

TBC
kankuro10
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Post by kankuro10 »

Omg. The Wicked Brothers. Yeah. I remember the first chapters. This is very exciting.
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Post by Bondwriter »

Here is one more chapter. Hope this keeps your interest, Kankuro.

3. The Challenge

The technical crew was back. Everybody prepared for the next shots. William asked to shoot at various points in the binding to choose from different set-ups for the final set.

“I’ll start with your arms just like you did mine, Simon,” William explained.

The boy performed his task leisurely, tightening and tugging on the ropes every now and then to ensure a perfect symmetry. The fingers running along the ropes informed Simon of his binder’s experience. He checked all the right things, pulled where needed to get optimum tension. He also didn’t leave the knot within reach of Simon’s fingers.

“Done! Let’s get a picture of my handiwork before you try and escape.”

There were three photographs taken, with Simon seen from the front, the back and the side.

William gave Simon the go for an escape attempt. It took him three minutes, but with a lot of twisting the rope going over his right shoulder eventually slipped, loosening the whole network and allowing him to get out of the whole set-up in less than half a minute.

“Thank you,” Simon said, bowing for the audience. They shot a photograph of the freed burglar, smiling and showing his teeth, holding the coiled ropes he had gotten rid of. “You want to try again?” he asked William; his guest liked tying knots, he would have him indulge.

“Are you challenging me? I’ll use two coils this time, then, and see if you can free yourself with your legs bound.”

The atmosphere on set was cheerful, with everyone, including Simon, supportive of the boy’s attempt at restraining the escape expert. William refused any help, and he worked faster the second time around.

Simon relished his tight blue undies and their thin wire frame; they kept his genitals in check when wearing overly tight things around his groin. He couldn’t appear on stage as a satyr with a priapic issue. He was to play an innocent boy most of the time. But the hands held him and wove him into what felt a tighter net of ropes this time and gave birth to feelings that weren’t innocent at all.

The ordeal lasted fifteen minutes. Simon started feeling his bonds, going over the various knots and loops in sequence. There was a weakness at the ankles, and possibly some slack could be gained at the elbows. This was a masterful tie-up nonetheless.

There were six shots taken of the final result, and William and Theodore featured on two of them.

It took Simon over thirty minutes to get out of the ropes; he denied any help offered, his pride requesting he’d manage on his own in front of strangers. He felt the crew growing impatient as the afternoon was getting late and the shot inside the safe was yet to be taken.

William had taken in the photographer’s impatience; he worked fast, with Simon giving advice on how to best get a ball-tie. William couldn’t help but admire the relevance of Simon’s knowledge, which got him to get him in a really tight ball, with his knees against his chin and the balls of his feet tucked against his bum.

Simon was flexible and had apparently practiced the position. His legs folded easily; William’s eyes lingered on the shiny, round and firm black butt. The boy remained casual about the binding he’d put the escape artist in.

“This feels a bit better, William. Should we proceed with the shooting?”

There were pictures taken of Simon, some with William in the frame, posing as the hunter who’d brought back a large piece of game from his safari.

They then slid the balled-up body inside the safe, which they closed as a demonstration. It took time to get the proper amount of aperture of the door for the photo; Horace and Moe were experienced product photographers, and they could handle the camera and lenses to get great angles.

Getting everything right, from the light to the pose took time, and it was well into the afternoon when they were done. The crew had to leave at five, so they put their things away.

“We’ll continue tomorrow,” William whispered into Simon’s ear, kneeling to free from the strenuous ball-tie. “Let’s take a break; this has been a long photo-shoot.”

That’s when he had a surprise. Simon shed the ropes like a snake shed his skin and he stood to bow in his enticing burglar suit.

Compared to his usual entertainment activities, this wasn’t very difficult. It was long and boring all right; Simon still enjoyed hanging out with boys his age from a wealthy background; they flattered his ego with the interest they showed for his craft. He wasn’t ashamed of the sleight of hand he’d just shown, proving how good he was at escaping ropes.

While the crew put the equipment away, the two brothers took Simon to a stall nearby where a real Perma-Lock safe sat. It was heavy, and Simon was very keen on all the technical details. He had acquired knowledge of locks and locking mechanisms, and the creativity of engineers never ceased to amaze him.

The brothers were enthusiastic about the features the safes offered, a real landmark of modern technology. William winked at his brother. It was time to make their move, with Horace and Moe gone and Simon just ripe for another challenge.

“This technology is fascinating, Simon, but I’m still in awe with human ingenuity. I have lots of admiration for your talent. Isn’t there a way we could tie ropes that would keep you prisoner?”

The ginger artist looked straight into his patron’s eyes.

“There are ways, though over the years I’ve mastered a few tricks to defeat most. You’d have to explore on your own, I won’t give you any secrets away.”

“Would you be game for some lessons this evening? We thought of a long walk throughout the woods around the estate, but having you as a teacher in knots and escape artistry beats it by a long end.”

Simon was flattered.

“Of course, we may have another try. You seem to be knowledgeable, but you could relax a bit and take a little more time tightening every single length. That’s usually the cue to a successful tie-up: not leaving a single weak link.”

Theodore sounded interested too. So far, he’d left his younger brother handle most of the photo-shoot; he wanted to be part of the action too.

“I wouldn’t mind giving it a hand too. William’s been stuck in my ropes before.”

His younger brother cast an annoyed look.

“Yes, Theo, but you didn’t fare any better did you?”

It was true that their competitive edge had taught them to tie a nasty knot when exacting revenge upon their brother. Both had stayed trussed up and stuck while the other taunted him, usually until the moment when the predicament went from uncomfortable to unpleasant.

“Anyway,” William smiled, putting an end to the brotherly feud, “I’m all for having you judge which of us is the best at rope binding, Simon.”

They headed back to the main room. William went to the back of the room. He brought back a large board on wheels, with a chrome-steel pole screwed in its middle.

“What about a pole tie, Simon? Do you think I can do a good enough job that you can’t slide out of my ropes?”

“You’re setting the bar high, Will,” his brother approved, “I guess this’ll be my challenge too. And I’ve gotten you unable to escape from pole ties, our young amateur can’t be much more difficult to handle.”

“I’ll let you know who’s the best, not to worry,” Simon smiled. “I’ll take it William will be first at trying his hand. You’ve practiced together, then. It’s better, and having been tied up helps to do the job. You’re aware of the balance between ropes that are too tight and bonds that can’t keep a prisoner in check.”

“Indeed. It’s a classic, but I think I’ve understood a thing or two about the skeleton that make me a worthy opponent in a battle of ropes.”

“I’m glad this is only a workshop. I wouldn’t want to play such a game with kidnap specialists. I’ve ended up in the claws of real ones enough times.”

The frank and open manners of the boys appealed to Simon. They were enthusiastic with their knowledge, with sharp minds in contact with engineers and makers; they also were handsome. He agreed to the challenge, unaware of the real meaning of William’s smirk.

“Should I change in something else?”

William thought for a second.

“You don’t need to, unless it isn’t comfortable.”

The suit was snug but it didn’t feel tight at all. William seemed also impatient to try his luck, standing next to the pole with rope in hand.

This wasn’t exactly a break for Simon; he was paid good money for his trade, so it would be in poor taste to refuse the wealthy industrialist’s sons a little time indulging in their hobby with an actual specialist.

Simon stepped onto the platform with the steel pole and gracefully stood with his back against it. William had made room, staying just behind the escape artist preparing for his number.

William threaded the ropes around the pole before he used them to restrain Simon’s limbs. He wasn’t lying about his knowledge of anatomy, and the way he wrapped the ropes meant he knew how motion worked.

Simon was used to letting others work their ropes around him; this latest fan was displaying perfect gestures, and he laid rope after rope in a smart sequence, further immobilizing his limbs. This was good work. William was a bit nervous; he had jerky moves, but he also compensated by checking every single length he added to the web imprisoning his captive. They’d never actually had members of the audience do the tie-up. At most, some were there to testify of the bonds’ strength.

This reminded Simon of past events, when he’d ended up bound to trees or rakes. By an enthusiastic fan. Called Wilhelm.

It went all in a flash and Simon didn’t think more of it. He had to explain William how his chest harness left space for sliding his shoulders out. The boy took his time and redid the job carefully, taking in the advice on cinching the first turn, which made any sliding out of the rope network all the more difficult.

William went over his whole work; his brother helped him out and went to give his opinion on the thoroughness of the job.

“It seems to hold, Will. This is Simon we’re talking about, though. I’m quite sure you didn’t expect him to get out of your ball-tie? Your look when he stood at the end and bowed was a memorable sight.”

“I’ll confess I felt a bit put down. Our young entertainer is very skilled, and I doubt mere ropes may allow us to keep him our captive.”

Simon felt elated; they thought they couldn’t hold him in ropes. Their job was almost complete, and he had to admit there weren’t any flaws. He’d have to use the slack around the wrists to gain an edge, but it wouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes to get out of William’s bonds.

Theodore had some other stuff he was fiddling with around his forearms. It felt like leather and it tightened. These were cuffs.

“Isn’t it a rope-only, challenge?” Simon asked.

“It’s just for the looks, Simon, let us do our job. We want this pole-tie to be just like the one that inspires us.”

“This should bring back some memories to Simon, Will, it’s just like in the shed in the Birthday story.”

“Yes, just like when Wilhelm trussed you up to the rake.”

This was a confirmation to Simon, who remained speechless, thinking of these times two years previous when he’d been under the tight and relentless control of his teen abductor. He looked at William.

“What is he talking about? Is it a joke?”

“Not at all, we’re just fans and we know of all your adventures. My brother is right. The Birthday Party story was a great read to us. Did it really happen as it’s reported in the story?”

Simon knew the piece of fiction William referred to.

“Most of it is true, though the story exaggerates the situation. It sounds much tougher in the novel than it was in real life.”

“You weren’t Wilhelm’s prisoner?”

“I was, but he had no intention to harm us. He just wanted to keep me, and then his little brother as his personal pets.”

Theo traded a knowing glance with his brother.

“This is still rather wicked. I’d say, you must have learned your lesson.”

“His audience loves it, Theo, think of the reviews we read. Some of the journalists sounded like they wanted Simon to be in fetters and wearing a muzzle permanently. I’d say, our redheaded friend must be the target of all those who enjoy seeing helpless, bound and gagged boys.”

Simon could feel the strictness of the bonds, and they knew of the small enhancements that would turn the position from difficult to escape to impossible to evade. He saw Theo fiddling with short leather straps, leering at him.

“Theo likes to scare people, doesn’t he?”

This wasn’t part of the plan. Theodore regained his senses and said he was just kidding. They kept tightening the ropes and wrapping leather stuff they buckled. Then Simon felt ropes threaded through D-rings in the leather cuffs. This wasn’t how it should be done, and he needed to call the attempt off.

TBC
snowylocks
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Post by snowylocks »

The character of Simon, his stories, and the writing style of his creator, are beloved by more people than will ever dare to post a comment here. While that seems just the nature of tales like this, it's a fair point that this kind of original and unique creativity will die on the vine, if we don't even bother to acknowledge that we enjoy it.

So many thanks to BW, for having so carefully constructed a bunch of stories that stay fresh and exciting no matter how many times I've read them.

And extra special thanks for posting this episode of Simon's interesting life, because it's brandnew to me.
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Post by Risperdaltied »

Loving the continued adventures of Simon!
Bikinis + bondage = perfect combination
Feel free to PM for RP - to be tied or to tie...
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Post by Bondwriter »

Thanks, Snowylocks & Risperdaltied.

In my case, seeing the numbers increase from week to week is already a good incentive, but I enjoy the actual comments too. There are plenty of ideas for more Simon, I just need to goad myself to my desk and get them down...
kankuro10
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Post by kankuro10 »

Yes. A new chapter. It's exciting, and increasingly interesting. I love reading the adventures os Simon, once and again, and again. It is always exciting to read his old and new stories. The Wicked Brothers are very interesting characters too.

Thank you, Bondwriter.
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Post by Jb99 »

Excellent chapter, as usual leaving the reader gagging (!) for more!
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Post by Bondwriter »

Glad to hear from the Simon fans. Other adventures are on their way, people, so there should be updates for a while.

4. Party Gone Awry

“Hey, this is cheating, we said rope-onlMMMpgrrbbllmmm…”

William clamped his wide hand over Simon’s mouth.

“Did we say that? I don’t remember. I think I’ve gotten enough advice from you, now is a time to have you perfectly silent while we have some fun with you.”

“Mmmrmmph? Mggrmmbbllm?”

Simon turned to the other sibling, hoping in vain he would get assistance.

“There are lots of things we’d like to see a circus artist like you do while kept tamed and restrained. In your dainty little costumes, it’ll be even better. I’ll get what we need to keep our guest quiet, Will.”

Theodore grabbed some scarves or hankies and leather and rubber straps from a case. He rolled a thin silk scarf into a small sausage and brought it close to Simon’s handgagged face for inspection. It wasn’t too big, but Theodore smirked and wrapped it inside another one, making the sausage into a thick roll.

They had worked together before; William removed his hand and grabbed Simon’s chin at the same time, opening his mouth wide with a very strong hold. The ball of slippery material slid in, filling every nook and cranny of Simon’s mouth.

Our young hero saw his rescue coming: the photographers walked towards their group. He tried to spit the ball of material out but

“Hey, you boys are still trying your hand with the escape artist? .”

Horace and Moe startled the brothers. William spotted the case they’d forgotten behind; he’d planned on having people walk on them like this; he maybe even unconsciously wished for such a situation. He was prepared. His hand covered Simon’s mouth slowly; he didn’t rush as if he were genuinely playing a tie-up game with their new friend.

“Yes, Horace. He’s been good at it. But I still think I can bind him so he’s trapped. Simon has even offered to be gagged and blindfolded so he’d get a slight handicap. Didn’t you, Simon?”

The escape artist tried to shake his head in denial; his move would have been spotted, had it not been the moment when they turned around to pick the crate up. William reinforced his grip over our hero’s head and his hands made the helpless Simon nod.

“One last try and then his chauffeur comes and picks him up. We’ll see him to the gate, don’t worry.”

“MMMmmmmph!”

“He sure sounds feisty!”

“This is all part of his act. He’s a great performer.”

Horace and Moe were in a hurry to leave and they didn’t dawdle. They left, laughing politely at the entertainment their wealthy clients enjoyed. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Simon at the hands of the two brothers.

“Poor little Simon, you just missed an opportunity of escaping. Now, for all they know, Horace and Moe will swear to have seen you just before you left. You’re all ours, and we sure won’t let you escape, trust us.”

The misled artist shook his head and grumbled angrily, but to no end; William’s hands kept his mouth and jaw in a tight vice, making any sound an indistinct grunt. Theodore went to Simon’s trunk.

“His ball! This will make sure he can’t spit the hankies out. Isn’t it what Wilhelm did, Simon?”

The two brothers worked together to stuff the small rubber ball inside Simon’s mouth, trapping the heavy silk wadding inside.

“Grrmpph!!”

“If you say so,” William grinned, “but don’t worry, we may get you even quieter.”

He crouched and picked up the scarves his brother had gathered. He used three scarves as additional over the mouth layers – the third one an over the nose. The thin fabric kept his jaws compact, meaning further subjugation. Our young hero could only be glad that he still could breathe.

“Let me tighten these well. So they block your jaws and make them compact. Yes, clamped over the thick stuffing. Not a word from out little gagged boy then?”

“MMMmmmmm…”

“He’s a tough one, Will. Let’s add the leather harness.”

“Great idea, hand it to me, please.”

This was a simple set-up, with two wide, supple and strong leather belts sewn to each other. They installed them over the gag; William buckled the first one over Simon’s neck, and soon did the same with the one closing off at the top of his skull. This did add to the tension and sure would make it impossible to get rid of the mass inside his mouth, which was now getting soggy as the gag had Simon drool.

The added layers prevented any leak and Simon was masterfully gagged.

“Now we’ve taken care of the unwanted remarks from our young guest, let’s finish our job binding him, and I’d say chaining him and locking him to this pole. You’re too good for us, Simon, even Horace said so. You’ll understand that to abduct you, we have to get some little advantage?”

The brothers got busy setting more cuffs over Simon’s limbs, which they used to link and lock him to the pole. One by one, the iron mechanisms snapped shut; Simon could only handle padlocks he had the key to, or a hairpin within reach, if it was simple enough.

“All done, aren’t we, Theo? This is a real challenge for you, Simon. If you can’t prove us your worth in thirty minutes, I’m afraid this will mean you lost and you owe us for all the kidnapping fun we want to have.”

“Mmmrbbllmm?”

Simon remained puzzled. What kind of a joke was this? He stretched, feeling how badly he was trapped with the added restraints. Half an hour? He could do it, if the brothers had messed something up; they’d worked fast, so they certainly had.

The boys pushed Simon’s platform straight in front of two large club armchairs they sat in. They were five feet away from the struggling escape artist. They commented on his efforts, with Theodore rooting for the redhead, so his brother would lose the wager. Simon kept on fighting, but there were cuffs and locks surrounding all his joints, with very little slack to pull on.

“He’s going to manage, William, this is Simon after all. Look how much he writhes?”

“He may twist around all he wants; it doesn’t seem he’s going anywhere. I’m going to win. You may give me a forfeit if he does.”

“I’ll let you handle him if he frees himself,” Theodore replied, not offering to take a forfeit, as Simon seems genuinely stuck.

One thing he became aware of, with his audience so close, was the direct sight they had over his sex. He hadn’t put any of the small shells that he used to perform and keep his modesty; all the twisting and writhing, and the masterful gag had him aroused and he was embarrassed that these young men could see it.

It was happening again; while trapped in a helpless situation, he displayed enjoyment in a very graphic way.

“He’s writhing all he can, and can you hear how he coos, Theo? This is heaven for Simon, being abducted by his fans. He’s picked a line of work in which it may happen often. His costume is an invite for abductors like us.”

Simon had been abducted by his fans many times indeed; all of them hadn’t seen him react with such an enthusiastic boner. When he’d fallen prey to a trio of schoolgirls who’d come to see the show, he’d blushed and whined in his gag, yet his member had kept very small and still. This had been rather puzzling to the boy, who’d wondered why he didn’t react as enthusiastically as he should have, from what he’d heard from the older circus members. He’d grown to have such concerns in the preceding year.

The half-hour went by quickly, but Simon never managed to gain an advantage on his bonds, and they still held him as fast when William called time.

“This hasn’t been too effective, Simon. You’re no match for my bonds, apparently. Now, I like games, and I think that when someone loses, there needs to be a wager.”

They stood and pushed the platform; the sophisticated roller bearings made for a smooth motion and they soon got to the back of the warehouse. Theodore opened a small door; they got in a courtyard; to their right there was a small booth. The older brother opened the door and they pushed Simon and his platform in the small space. He removed his blindfold.

The thin tin walls had warmed up throughout this fine weather spring day, and the heat within the confined space was way above 100°.

“You’ve earned yourself an extra stay in the sun booth. I mean, it used to be a place for a security guard, but we quit using it because with the least sunray, the guard melted almost immediately. They haven’t taken it to the scrapyard yet…”

William and Theodore exited, closing the door behind them, and locking it from the sound Simon heard.

“It’s late afternoon, so it shouldn’t be too bad. We’ll let you sweat for a while, but we’ll be back, and if you haven’t managed to escape by then, we’ll have even more trials and ordeals for you. You’ve been kidnapped, Simon, and we’re going to be very strict captors.”

Simon heard their steps receding. He was left in the sultry space of the metal shed. Sweat ran down his suit. He would cook in such an atmosphere. They couldn’t leave him like this, all on his own!

“GMmmmmphmmrbllMMMM!”

He heard only sniggers fading away. He faced serious adversaries. They probably had picked a location remote enough that they didn’t have to worry about his gagged pleas being heard. The escape artist applied his trade, breathed slowly and deeply and felt for a way out. The sweat ended up loosening the restraints; the leather stretched when soaked and Simon could feel how to adapt and succeed at escaping, if only to feel fresher air. The sun still shone on his cage, but Simon had timed at ten minutes the time to slip his arms out of the restraints.

He then would see how to handle the door. Would there be a piece of metal on the floor? Or would he have to wait for the brothers’ comeback, and charge them as they would open the door. He could surprise them and get an advantage despite their size and number. He would have the opportunity only if he could get rid of the bonds and fetters.

He flexed his muscles and twisted. This was the method that would get him to release himself, he’d used it successfully many times. Many rivulets of sweat rolled down Simon’s body before eventually he felt some yield and his elbow slid down. His arms were close together, but another ten minutes and he would be free.

He’d assessed the time required properly, but so had William. Simon had increased the slack from the straps when he heard steps coming. He managed rushed to get his right arm out of its restraints and rip off the straps before he’d be found out.

The door opened and William stood over the threshold, looking at his prisoner’s frantic moves with a smirk over his lips. He spotted the moving wrist straight away. Fresh air was a relief for the redheaded abduction victim, yet he could now expect to see some other unpleasant development.

“You’ve done better this time, Simon. I’m glad to see you try and actually succeed.”

Simon freed his second arm; his captor intervened. William grabbed his wrists and cuffed it anew.

“Nevertheless, we’ll have to do better in the hours to come; my goal is to prevent you from escaping completely. Let’s take you outside, it’s a bit stuffy in here; we’ll move on for other trials, I’m sure you like variety.”

William used a coarse towel to collect most of the sweat running down his body. Simon wailed into his gag, telling of his will to be let go. His minder didn’t seem bothered. He dried him up from head to toe. Simon calmed down. The courtyard was empty. William acted confidently. He went over his captive’s restraints, buckling all the straps one notch tighter. Simon was thankful for his suit, which protected his skin from the bite a little.

“As a matter of principle, I’m a bit miffed you managed to free your arms. This means you’re a worthy competitor; but also that we’ll have to be more careful. Don’t worry, we’ll offer you plenty of variety, and quite soon, actually.”

William stepped behind the platform and pushed. He opened the door and had a peek.

“The coast is clear, and Theodore is handling one particular detail of our plan.”

Simon saw the large courtyard. There was noise from motors and even voices, but he couldn’t see anyone.

“MmmmmmRRRMMMrrmmmBBBLLLMMM!”

This got William to snigger.

“My poor Simon! You really don’t give up, do you? I know this place well, including where and when there might be people. I’m also afraid this gag really works well, wouldn’t you say so?”

They turned the corner of the building. A large sedan was there, and William stooped the platform next to it. He opened the rear door; the seat was covered with straps and all sorts of equipment.

“We’ll take you for a ride, Simon, and I’m going to have you as my passenger, but I’ll have to be cautious to get you in the car.”

TBC
kankuro10
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Post by kankuro10 »

OMG. Another exciting and entertaining chapter. Seriously, this adventure is very interesting.
"Other adventures are on their way?" I am very excited.
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